


Gemini

by Substance



Series: Frailty [5]
Category: League of Legends
Genre: Dom/sub, Dubious Consent, F/F, Gender Issues, Heavy Angst, Knifeplay, Role Reversal, Romance, Self-Harm
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-10-29
Updated: 2015-10-29
Packaged: 2018-04-28 18:03:56
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 8
Words: 31,260
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5100428
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Substance/pseuds/Substance
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>A broken, soulbound Sejuani receives an invitation from Ashe. Dark halves come to light in the depths of the wilderness where opposites attract, repel, merge and obliterate. Four may become zero. Two may become one.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Disclaimer: I do not own any of the rights to 'League of Legends'. This is written solely for entertainment, not profit. Please don't sue me, Rito.
> 
> Rated M for rough sex, angst with ten capital "A"s, dominance / submission, dubious consent, role reversal, gender confusion, self harm - this is heady stuff. I really don't want to upset anyone. If anything in that list makes your skin crawl, then I'd advise you to look elsewhere. I've tried to make this cathartic rather than cruel, though it's not my place to judge my success. If you've read my previous fic, Prey, well... it's rougher than that.
> 
> This story is the fifth in a series, following Infinity, Dreams, Vengeance and Prey (also on this site). I've tried to make each story coherent on its own but reading them in sequence is recommended. There's one plot-thread revolving around a pseudo-Alternative Universe which may come out of the blue if you haven't read Dreams and Prey but everything should still make sense. You can crack on if you're feeling brave.
> 
> For those who have been following this little saga. We're back to Sejuani's POV.
> 
> This is femslash, a story about romance between women. If you object, I advise you to stop reading.

There is no pride in waiting for death. Should war not claim us, we duel a worthy successor, hunt a legendary beast or wage our final crusade upon the Freljord itself.

We do not care for parents in old age. If they can't raise a knife to their throats, we draw their final circle with dignity, preserving our memories of their strength.

I won't lie. When you love someone, you cherish every moment and the last is never enough but we must put aside our covetous grief and perform our duty.

Volibear, why have you forsaken me?

* * *

I am Sejuani… at least, I _was_.

In exchange for my life, and a chance to save the Freljord, I had pledged my soul to Kalista. I believed that as long as I could swing a flail and give orders, I played my role. No one, apart from Volibear, had to know my loss.

However, the gloom was no static, unchanging backdrop. It was a direction, endless tracks running downwards. I could only follow. Every day I sank further and further, no rescue, no respite.

While I could form plans to keep the Winter's Claw from extinction, I was a poor conduit, lacking energy to provide oversight and enforcement. Volibear neglected his congregation to manage both tribes at once. My people respect how I clawed out of the grave but respect will not feed their bellies or slake their bloodthirst.

I lose all sense of time. It passes in theory, recorded in Volibear's schedule and Udyr's reports but I do not feel the progression. I think I sleep during the day then wake at night. Here, the two can be one and the same. I drag my bones outside and look at the stars but the stars tell me nothing.

* * *

Natural philosophy claims our world is hostile or indifferent. I believe our world is merciful, without Ashe's groundless interference.

How do I know?

Because nothing lasts forever.

My pain will end, in love or death.

I once had infinity.

* * *

The morning is cool, and I have the stamina to review my war table. The carved bones that signify large units have not shifted for weeks. Udyr and Volibear sit in council.

I hate being the smallest person in the room.

Once, only Volibear had the privilege to see under my crystal horns. Udyr has invited himself into my confidence. He talks with the spirit world and soon learnt about my deal with Kalista. Fortunately, he doesn't use that knowledge for personal gain. I would have to kill him otherwise, which would be a waste of his talent. While my condition remains private, I would sooner keep him close.

By his tell, the Winter's Claw were just a convenient weapon against Lissandra. Following my descent, I thought he'd leave to find a stronger bulwark. Respect is a cardinal vice to him but I have earnt _something_.

He doesn't remain seated for long. 'I've searched high and low. There's no sign of the Demacians.' Walking laps of the table, he makes few changes on Avarosan territory. 'With all that insufferable noise, you'd think Ashe would have enough cavalry to mount the world.'

Volibear harrumphs. 'Are you disappointed?'

'I prefer to be outnumbered, and I know the Demacians. They'd follow me blindly into the wastes and freeze to death. We could then attack the Avarosan base while their attention is elsewhere.' Udyr scoffs at Volibear's lack of enthusiasm. 'It's not like you to shy from a challenge.'

Volibear doesn't bite immediately. 'While Sejuani recovers, any battle against a larger force would be suicidal. There's nothing to gain from seeking death.'

'I would keep that from your berserker friend.' Olaf's impatience grows each day but he is too unreliable in small, precise engagements. I can't use him right now. 'You have one less flail but so long as your troops have Sejuani's direction, your edge remains.' Udyr's tiger spirit materialises, flashing an obscene gesture. 'Her frailty has made you soft. A _mother_ bear would express anger, not fear.'

Volibear growls. He _has_ grown too cautious but I owe my dearest ally some leeway. Breaking up their quarrel, I state. 'Even if I were at full-strength, Ashe knows your method. You've attempted similar gambits with no lasting impact.'

Udyr grins. 'Your esteem for the little rogue is eternal… and wise.' He brandishes an arrow, decked with a narrow cylinder. 'She was in your lands, _again_. Evidently, your scouts are no match for her.'

Volibear jumps to his feet. 'When did you know this?'

'Don't accuse me of games. I ran here as fast as I could.'

'You saw her fire it?' Volibear lunges for the cylinder, crowding Udyr's personal space.

'Of course,' Udyr stands his ground. He makes a point of handing the package to me. 'Her movements are very distinct, as are mine to her, no doubt.'

I brush the cylinder with hesitant fingers while the squabble endures. The hasty, blurred seal is Avarosan, deep within a surplus of bloody, bulbous wax. It is not the work of a patient, thrifty scribe. Ashe likely fastened it herself in poor conditions, more troubled with the safety of the message than appearance. I'm disturbed, as a notorious perfectionist like Ashe doesn't perform anything roughly… not without reason.

Volibear continues. 'Why didn't you follow? We might be under attack.'

'Look at our map!' Udyr sounds like a teacher, scolding a child. 'Ashe couldn't lead an army this deep without _my_ knowledge. However, she could bring enough people to lay a trap.'

'We have riders there! Why not use them?'

'Have you forgotten? I'm outside your chain of…'

'No!' Volibear snaps. 'Like it or not, you're an inspiration. Our skirmishers would obey your commands without argument. If you weren't so damn set on avoiding all responsibility, you could have ended this war!'

' _Your_ war.' Strolling away from his expertly sown chaos, Udyr pauses, beyond striking range. 'Besides… I thought your chieftain would appreciate Ashe's words more than her scalp.'

He can't say that openly. My voice is cold as my pulse rages. 'Get out.'

Udyr leaves, curiosity fed. I slump across the table, pressing my brow to the damp wood. Figurines tumble as the cylinder rolls across our map. I feel the ground shake when Volibear sits back down. He says, 'I respect him as a warrior but his arrogance can be… trying.'

'We conceal things and he discovers them. So long as the pattern holds, Udyr will behave like he's one step ahead.'

'Even if we told him everything, he wouldn't change. It could make him worse.'

'He is what he is. We needn't dwell on him.' I raise my head. 'Volibear?'

'Yes?'

My nails dig into my palms. 'Break the seal. I do not fear the contents.' Of course I do, yet I'm still prideful, insisting on my bravery to someone who knows me too well. 'But I fear hiding them.'

Volibear struggles. The lid is apparently screwed on. His large paws can't find a secure grip. I feel ashamed for mocking his dexterity with my simple request. He loses patience and bites off the top. His mouth curls back from his long teeth. 'Ugh… the wax is flavoured.'

'It might be poison!' If he dies, I will never pardon my carelessness.

'Enough to kill a _bear_?' His chops undulate. 'Winter berries. I half-expected blood.'

I breathe a sigh of relief. 'You honestly think that's her way?' Memory stirs. The pillow case that she fired across our border, weeks ago, bore her life's mark. 'She could use her own, I guess.'

'Or anyone's. You are blind to her cruelty.'

'I've endured it long enough.' While I speak, Volibear unhooks the string binding the vellum, using a single claw as a needle. ' _She's_ the one who lives in denial of her true nature.'

Volibear nods grimly. 'She's a dangerous woman.' He taps the letter. 'Do you really want me to see this?'

'You don't think we've shared enough?'

He backs away from reading, unhappy with my answer. 'That's no reason to continue. Ritual needs purpose.'

I'm not in the mood for one of his lectures. 'After all you've done, I can't withhold my confidence.'

'You should honour me with your judgement. Your misguided sense of obligation does me no credit. We are people, remember, not beads on a divine abacus.'

'Are you refusing my trust?' I scowl. 'Warriors have _died_ only to serve me.'

'Why let fools decide your worth when you could use your strength and wisdom to prove yourself? Create a new world. You don't have to bow to the present.'

I know what this is really about. He's in denial, hoping a mortal could reason away Kalista's geas. I may have to repeat myself eternally while his ghost follows mine. 'You know the price I paid. I have no mental blocks, no trauma. She _took away_ my power to conceive the future.'

'You can rise above her!' Volibear's _basso profondo_ wavers in anguish. 'Kalista's nothing more than a tool of base want. You can write a new page, right now. Tell me… what is _your_ wish? Do I read Ashe's words… or not?'

When you _are_ the void, you can't form judgements in one. All I can think about is one step, following another, two seconds before, nine seconds, fifteen… Volibear makes a request. I fulfil. 'Presumably, she's worded her message for prying eyes. Read.'

I see no triumph in Volibear's careful movements, unrolling Ashe's letter. Perhaps, he is not as bull-headed as I thought, and his end was merely to reinforce the habits of leadership while venting some angst. He's good at small victories, finding reasons to carry on.

He snorts. Apparently, the very sight of Ashe's handwriting offends him. 'She means to cause trouble from the first line.'

'Give me her words _then_ your thoughts… if you must,' I grumble.

'"Sejuani, my love."' Why do sweet nothings have this much power? Glow-worms dance in my stomach. 'I'm glad someone else didn't find this.'

How strange are these times if _Udyr_ sets our benchmark for discretion? 'Are my tribe so restive that Ashe's taunts have weight?'

'An excitable few might infer sincerity. The point is that she feels bold enough to call you such without retribution. Her tone is _dominance_.'

It amuses me how neither of us took Ashe's endearment at face value. 'Hmph, I always thought love was a kind of submission.'

'Or a finely tuned jealousy…' Volibear seems distracted, as though sensing a new threat. 'Rather than track her prey, she begs you to jump into her mouth.'

I shudder. _No one_ stalks the Winter's Wrath but… with the thought of being prey… I feel hot breath, rolling over my neck, lascivious claws upon each flank. How much I resented ownership of these wide, useless, child-birthing hips! At least, my heavy, swollen bosom can intimidate with the right presentation but why must _I_ be the chosen wall for nature's graffiti? Why paint a vulgar target on a body, built for carnage? 'What else?'

Volibear removes all ardour from Ashe's tale. '"I worry that our bond is killing us both. My recent actions brought shame upon Avarosa, pushing me to find solitude. I'm haunted with dreams of your broken form. Please come to Fjölnir Spire. Though we may not resolve our differences, we might answer questions, unmask lies or end rumours."'

I catch Volibear's glance. Three silent words pass between us, "Or start them".

Awkwardly, Volibear continues. '"I may have desires no mortal woman could ever suppress but I don't ask for reciprocation."' He pauses, while I cover my blush. I recognise a plea to my tribe, Ashe declaring herself a passionate leader who cares not for my wishes. The combination of guile, battle, sex and love rouses me greatly. She can be magnificent. '"I merely ask you to come alone. While this letter is not an ambush, I could arrange one if your nosy pet shaman crosses my dreams again."'

I stow my rage, knowing Ashe's flair for manipulation, but this looks bad on Volibear. 'How could she know about you?' While he walked through my sleeping mind, _I_ couldn't sense him. Unless new powers have joined our conflict, I have to assume he's been talking with her.

'She's… misinterpreting.' If he tries to weasel out of an answer, my hope is gone. Volibear's the only person I fully trust. 'I can't… _view_ her from a distance. All I can do is call. She might hear something and reply but it's like shouting from a well. At best, you can hear pain, joy… the words themselves often distort.'

I'm relieved, having already figured out where this is going. 'So why did you call her?'

'No reason… it was a moment of weakness. I… _had_ to convey your suffering and my… helplessness.' Volibear hangs his head. 'All I heard was turmoil, a demand for you to reach out, as if it's _your_ burden to leave _your_ tribe. Still, I should have been strong enough to bear my troubles, and wise enough to show prudence. Your trials are privileged information. I betrayed your confidence. I'm sorry.'

As always, he blames Ashe, and he blames himself even more. I just wish he'd blame me. 'You told her about Kalista?'

'No.'

'We're okay then. I died on top of her, came back and left in your arms. It would look strange if you _didn't_ lash out.' I lay my hand on his gargantuan paw. 'I'll say one thing. I trust you to carry my weight. You should trust me with yours.'

'My old eyes are failing. It is hard to find space upon your back.'

'Your eyes are fine. I'd rather you break my spine than let me go on like this.'

'I…' Volibear shields his brow. 'I'm not having this conversation again. We talk in circles.'

'It is a straight line and you won't follow me to the end.'

'"Out of the crooked timber of humanity, no straight thing was ever made."' One of Volibear's favourite sayings about us. He means it as a compliment. 'You know full well there is no path. You have the freedom to…'

'Yes, if one has the means. Do you think a lame beast, walking a figure eight within a cage, is free? You should leave her to the wolves or march her to the slaughterhouse.' Pushing off the table, I force myself upright. Once, I could perform one-handed pull-ups in full armour. Now I can barely stand. 'Is there anything else?'

Volibear says flatly. '"Yours in hope, Ashe."' Moving through torchlight, his giant frame casts a long shadow, plaintive blackness deepening his gaze. 'Please don't go.'

'What are my choices? Die from risk or die from inactivity? You keep urging me to flex my will. Now I'm finally taking action.'

'You're letting Ashe control you.'

'By meeting her challenge? The Winter's Claw _fight_. We have no purity of action because, without opposition, we have nothing. You saw this when you dragged your tribe out of their coma.'

'I did so to thwart ruin. Your actions will hasten it.'

'Ashe kept me alive once.' I remember starving myself in her dungeon to foil her advances. Rather than let me die, she forced life into my body with her tongue and set me free, while chains of love entwined us both. 'Here, I'm wasting away. Confronting her may give me time.'

'…enough to die from ten thousand emotional cuts.' Volibear changes tack. 'Fjölnir Spire is no clan's territory for good reason. Without an escort, you might fall prey to the Freljord itself.'

'That's a fine way to go, and Ashe's threat was clear. We both know her capabilities.'

'Even if you trust Ashe to lay down her bow, do you trust her followers?'

'I know Tryndamere wouldn't cross her.' Naturally, survival is the greasy barbarian's one talent. You could throw him into a volcano but some ledge would break his fall. 'The rest of them have no reason to go near Fjölnir Spire without orders.'

'Apart from her yeti rider. Nunu goes everywhere.'

Volibear's reminder is welcome. That innocent looking child is a Frostguard, worth a whole squad of pampered Avarosan. 'True but we have our own pest. Have Udyr run interference away from our supplies. Nunu will pounce. Olaf can ensure we don't lose all to Willump's gut.'

'I was hoping Udyr could watch your back until the final approach. At least endure my company within our lands.'

'You know that Ashe's hawk spirit sees farther than before. She'll panic if you're by the south-eastern border.'

'Sejuani, please…' Volibear takes my hand, almost kneeling so he can look at me, face to face.

When I finally cross over to pay Kalista for my sustained presence… I wouldn't call this "life"… dear Volibear will have my protection between acts of vengeance. Guiding him back to full height, I look up, although thoughts conspire to drag me down. He should remember me standing tall, undaunted by his power. 'Volibear, your friendship is worth more than I could ever say… but I would surrender all my wealth, material and otherwise, to spare your might from sorrow. Perhaps I was never born to lead us to victory. Perhaps the future belongs to _you_.'

His paws rest on my shoulders. I couldn't survive his embrace. Even his gentle grip is like a vice, moulding joints and cartilage as if they were spider webs. 'No… this is only the pain talking. You _can_ get through this. Please don't give up.'

'I will never give up. Our fight is eternal, so you must organise the Winter's Claw in my absence, rather than wait for my return.'

'I am a spiritual guide and a warrior, not a general.'

'You have wisdom, courage and foresight. Our forces heed your words and follow your charge. All you lack is experience and that comes with time.' It's easy to forget how recently Volibear came to prominence. He rules with such grace that our people underestimate his rapid learning. I suspect he is coy, regarding his intelligence, to break with the past. 'You may never reach Ashe's level. Few do… but you could reach Tryndamere's. If Ashe's words have any truth, he might lead our opposition.'

'He'll have better counsel.' Volibear's huge form swells then compresses with a deep sigh. 'But I can hold your fort while you slay your dragon.'

I smile. 'That is the best way to think of this… another dangerous quest of many.'

'Perhaps… I had faith then.' We've beaten impossible odds together. 'As l do now.'

For so long, hope has been a prayer to another culture's god, an emotion I could recognise but never truly grasp. Occasionally, faith grows from a real sense of the divine, other times, an expression of the heart's deepest wish. For an outsider, knowing is impossible. Who am I to question his words? All I can do is reply, 'thank you.'

Volibear pads the length of my war table, as though surveying ancient ruins. 'Do you have any guidance?'

It's a pleasure to review battle instead of my failings. 'Leave Udyr to his own devices. He may be wilful but he's a good skirmisher who knows when to go in and out. While he's drawing attention, damage their infrastructure then _back off_. Ashe's rangers will grind you to a halt within her lands if you go too deep. We can't win through guerrilla warfare alone but, as a holding pattern, it works. You can develop your knowledge while Udyr keeps them busy.'

'That sounds… possible.' Volibear's dry consideration gives me cheer. Facing reality will achieve more than weltering under my false light. 'Your troops have to provide more feedback. I've noticed you make decisions based on very little information.'

'Once you know the pace of local wildlife, weather, patrols, disease, consumption…' I gesture across our map, 'you can surmise a lot. However, you're right to ask what you don't know.'

'Good. If you don't return, your army, your _legacy_ , will shed every last drop of weak Avarosan blood and nourish the Freljord for generations to come!'

Volibear's hatred of Ashe frightens me. His equilibrium is a precious rock and I'm pulling him over a cliff. 'Our goal is to conquer the living. After that, you can avenge the dead.'

He nods without answering. I pray that's not a dark omen. He stretches a paw across the map, silently converting the span of his claws to miles. 'Fjölnir Spire is two days and two nights on two legs.' He snorts with dull humour. 'You could easily spend two days… conversing.' His pale snout wrinkles. He clearly suspects Ashe's intent and my resistance, how quaint. I suppose I'd feel the same in his place. 'Without complications, you'd be there and back in a week… or less?' The last qualifier is an obvious plea.

'There will be complications. Make it two.'

Volibear's fur crackles. 'That puts you at _far_ too much risk. What are you planning to do with all that time?'

'Simply watch her, liberated from her culture's interference. I want Ashe to realise her potential, away from lies and hypocrisy. You've seen her in battle. Imagine that without limits!'

'She might be worse than Lissandra.' He moves his head, like he's peering through a smokescreen. 'Promise me, you won't lower your guard, however bold her approach.'

'I'll avoid sleeping with her. My judgement is flawed enough.'

'That wasn't my concern. I'm sure _you_ won't pursue congress. That isn't… your way.'

Volibear's perusal of my dreams gave him an excruciatingly candid view of my sexual behaviour. He shouldn't raise that knowledge without my permission but I can't expect his memory to work or fail at my command. 'From your hesitation, you don't mean to praise my self-control. Out with it.'

'You don't claim any spoils or tribute while many of your tribe, _and_ your victims, beg your favour.'

He's not wrong. I picture those men and women, fierce raiders who become simpering fools to "serve" their leader. One of our most promising spear-throwers wasted hours of her time, sewing erotic attire, learning to dance and plucking her body hair to catch my gaze. I repaid her with exile to my north-eastern border. The Frostguard will teach her what skills I _truly_ need. 'Really, Volibear? I may be young and virile but I have standards. No one is worthy.'

My words make Volibear curl, as if he's fighting an urge to wrap himself around me, preventing unseen blades from tearing seams, cloth and flesh. 'A… hunter does not ask her quarry to prove its worth.'

I feel goose bumps all over my sensitive, abhorrent skin. I wish I could rip it all off and replace it with rocks and ice. 'Are you saying that I am _hunted_?'

'I pray not. I lose enough sleep imagining threats to your person.'

Concealing my response with action, I prepare to leave. 'Well, if you _insist_ on living in fear because of _me_ …' I speak through clenched teeth as I struggle with my gloves. 'Then I will spare you the shame and hurry to my fate.'

'You can spare me nothing.' Volibear's quiet words break my stride. 'After all, if shame were so easily destroyed, why value pride? Every true feeling is an everlasting scar.' He lumbers to see me off, his massive form laden with care. 'Whatever your course… even if you pass on… I will _always_ think of you, Sejuani, as a parent worries for their cub. You may thank me or curse me. Nothing will change.'

My legs nearly buckle. I've known my place in Volibear's heart for a while but never so plain. He was denied fatherhood in his prime due to his radical beliefs, only to be sterilised through vindication, a brutal countermeasure to prevent one bloodline hoarding power from a chosen ancestor. The storm is cruel but wise, knowing residual energy leaps from every spark. Volibear, more than anyone, feels the rightness of his tragic fate.

I cover my warm eyes with little corrections of my fringe, 'then I will thank you, rather than add to your pain.'

'I'd rather you cursed me than felt responsible for my happiness but…' a sigh darkens the compliment, 'you're a good woman, Sejuani.' My body feels like a strange costume. "A good woman"? What does that phrase mean to someone like me? With growing apprehension, I study my helmet in silence until Volibear continues. 'If you're not back in two weeks, I _will_ come for you.'

There was nothing more I could say to ease our parting, nothing at all.


	2. Chapter 2

That which takes a lifetime can be lost in a heartbeat.

As a child, I braved open skies with courage and a loincloth, walking in a line with adult men who proudly exposed wide, muscular pecs to hungry eyes and lips. My own smooth, pale body was a canvas, a garden with two little seeds, and room beneath to grow whatever I sought.

While I drew my course, my destination had already been set with a callous flip of nature's coin.

I remember the day well. My teachers were frightened. I was the smallest in my group after years of towering above. The matron whipped off my clothes, took various measurements, peered, prodded, pinched, pulled legs and arms akimbo then scraped each armpit with a burnt finger. She blithely said I "stunk right" and was due a growth spurt any time soon. I would surely become a healthy young woman.

I laughed. A woman? Why would anyone think that? I never said I was going to be a woman.

Using old yokes from our stores, I bound my chest. Even though I struggled to breathe, I slept easy, knowing my flesh would grow dense and lean. I hid a scrap of cloth under my blanket. Every time I woke on my front, I bit my finger to mark another day closer to my goal. My torso began to swell and itch. I was getting blisters from the constant rubbing of cracked leather. I resisted all temptation to remove the straps and look.

When I saw blood on my thighs, I panicked, assuming, from our wolves, that I was in heat. I vanished into the plains to bury my crotch in a snow drift, hoping to freeze any shameful urges. When I felt only cramp, I found a cave in which to hide. After three days of cold, loneliness and hunger, the bleeding stopped. I collapsed on my return, glad to surmount another challenge. A month later, the cycle repeated. Unwilling to forgo more training, I lagged my undergarments with wool and powered on. Again, I felt only discomfort, rather than a desire to spread my legs or display my buttocks. I concluded I was now safe. The bleeding meant something else. Maybe I would have a cock soon.

I devoured as much food as possible to grow strong. When I didn't see clear gains, I bolted anything remotely organic, vermin, pigswill, carrion. I was throwing up as my guts wouldn't process the volume. In half a year, my hips grew massive. I couldn't walk or run properly. Every step was like a swing of a giant pendulum, causing my arms to flail and catch the air, slowing me down. I locked my elbows to my ribs, drove my fists earthward. I compelled my body to remain square before that inappropriate feminine swish became a habit.

I grew clumsy. My balance faltered, as mind and muscle rejected my new proportions. Without a firm core and loose joints, my punches, kicks and weapon strikes became brittle. Fortunately, my teachers knew all about sudden blows of adolescence. They chose to work on my brain for a while, introducing me to geography, tactics and mounted combat.

Riding was a revelation. I enjoyed seeing the theatre of battle from up high. With speed and artistry, I drew lines between units and skirmishes. My thoughts could raze villages quicker than my body. That ray of hope, that source of victory, kept me on the path to becoming chieftain, even as other doors closed.

I was drunk on perspective, obsessed with becoming six foot as I memorised all the figures to run campaigns. Blending means, medians and modes, an average Winter's Claw male was a hair short of that magical number of leadership. Unfortunately, I stalled at a weak five foot nine, larger than most women but unexceptional for the Freljord.

In my dreams of another world, Ashe wore flats alongside my generous walking boots. The large height difference, that she found so attractive, was a naked lie.

The pantomime couldn't last. On a warm, close night, our skies laden with purple storm clouds, I writhed in agony. My chest was damp, sore and sticky, burning like hot venom. Torn asunder with the thought I was lactating, I ran outside with arms covering my shame, refusing to look down.

A guard saw the rivulets of blood, red claws joining hands with stretch marks over my belly.

Dragged before the matron, I screwed up my eyes while she fought my straps. The leather had split and gouged my dirty, swollen flesh. I hadn't washed it for months. The primary knot was a monstrous clutch of dead skin, old scabs and rusted metal, caked with pus. It required a bone saw to cut loose. With a snap, I felt an unwelcome shift of weight.

One of the cuts had become infected. I was lucky not to have gangrene, said the matron, scrubbing welts with brine. She pottered about her store while I sat, blind, half-naked and shivering. Atop a quiet orchestration, a prelude of rustling, her low contralto sang that I was foolish to do such things to my body when I was blessed and beautiful. It would have lovely, strong children and make someone very happy.

Like a shroud, a supple garment was draped across my torso then beneath my armpits. A pinch on the back and a push on my shoulder blades ordered me to slouch. I felt an upward force, like I was dangling from a rope. Experienced hands loosened the pinch. I released a bitter sigh of comfort, and opened my eyes. After years of looking ahead to an impossible future, I looked down… to see my prodigious bosom nestled within my first bra.

Giving up, I demanded to know how this unwanted form actually worked. After a series of nightmarish tales, I rose precariously. Muscles finally strove to accommodate, rather than ignore, this heavy, stupid surplus.

I told my nurse that if she ever called me beautiful again, I would boil her in a pot with the blood of her lovely, strong children.

With the sudden appearance of my woman's walk and woman's dress, I'd anticipated lechery, scorn, abuse and rejection, easily repaid in violence. However, the bastard men gave me pity, like I was a promising young raider who'd lost an eye before his prime. Unlike me, they were not wilfully benighted regarding my fate, which made the sight of me no less wretched.

I bore my sex openly, subjecting my hated form to the cold until even a hailstorm felt like a summer breeze. Once my adaptation was complete, I donned a full suit of armour to cover my distorted flesh and became just another scarred warrior. Only my scars were a different hue.

Now, I can feel the chill once more. Half a season within a dreary cocoon had reversed years of conditioning. Perhaps the wind blows through the hollow where my soul used to be.

* * *

Through the wilderness, I march. Every step is like dragging a corpse to a pyre. Before, my shoes would float across the drifts like a tern through the sky. Sweat plasters my body hair to the coarse underlay, plucking and scraping.

I could have taken Bristle then asked him to fetch me within two weeks but his company would have guaranteed a safe trip. I wanted a chance to die. Confronting a trackless environment with all your mettle in pure, solitary destruction is a tested way of leaving this plane without regrets, no sentimental dance or inadequate final words, just emotion without language or constraint.

Ice burns my sight and gnaws at my toes. Fjölnir Spire grows like an obscene cloud from the boundless white. Although my destination looms, I could still perish from exhaustion. Frozen senses register no pain but I can feel its echoes. Every twist of my knee causes my hands to shake.

I may breathe my last in Ashe's embrace. After yearning for a clean death, I crave her passionate, flowing touch, like warm silk bandages on tired muscle.

The spire's name suggests a dignified monolith, not a perverse explosion of rock, boiling and spreading like a tumour. She could lurk within countless warrens, dug into the stone by prehistoric yordles, but I trust her vigilance. If I ascend, Ashe will know, somehow.

Treacherous curves allow few paths onwards but a fortune-seeking mage had left his mark before reddening sharp fangs. A million years of hibernation were disturbed when a conjured meteorite shower, reminiscent of the catastrophe that slayed the monster's kin, rained footholds upon its lair.

Gathering enough energy to delve into this lethal maze, I begin to scale. My legs are vast weights of bone, dangling from weak hips. I'm not sure what's going on beneath my waist as I lurch upwards.

Heat explodes in my foot. I scream like a child and fall, dashing my cheek against rocky stubble. The sickly throb is an old friend, an irritating, presumptuous one. Ever since I fumbled an early dismount, I've had issues with my left ankle. It sprains readily. Limping through the pain isn't an option as I'm so frail that every little bump is magnified. Rolling over, I look at my boot. A wide crack, an evil smile, gapes from the side. I've had so little motivation that I'd forgone servicing my battledress.

I deserve my fate.

Rare is the power less fickle than justice. A figure soon approaches. I recognise the rapid, careful tread. You would never compare that rhythm to a graceful cat or a tenacious wolf. It is cautious, contained, aggressively human, a dogged response to the wild sprit of the Freljord.

A woman, dressed in colour-bled armour, grey fur, grey hide, warily stalks me with her bow drawn. Her sleeves and britches are deeply stained like a butcher's apron, or the robe of a priestess who carves out young virgin hearts for a lovelorn ásynja.

Beneath the cowl is a face of classical beauty, the marble contours highlighted with the ruby rich dyes of nature, her full sensuous lips… the thrilling evidence of her savage prowess.

My little thoughts trip over themselves, like pebbles down a gorge.

Ashe remains vigilant. 'You came…' her eyes dance with the horizon. 'Does anyone else know?'

'Volibear…'

With a spectral cry, her bothersome hawk retraces my path. I've lost count of the times that Ashe's peerless vision denied us victory.

Her lashes flutter while the ghost relays information. 'He's not here… yet.' She takes off her gloves and raises my head. Her terrible softness controls me. There's no reason for her to caress my jaw with bare fingertips like this, no reason but cruel manipulation. Doves claw through my stomach, thieving energy from weakening muscles, reducing me from a vicious marauder to an eager, helpless maiden. Her crystal, reed-like tones cut through the storm. 'Thank you for telling me. You had every cause to lie.'

Fidgeting within her lap, I snort with self-reproach, and also because my nostrils are leaking from the cold. 'You're right. I should have respected your guile and kept my advantage.'

Ashe hiccups with joy. 'Oh, sorry. Tryndamere warned, something else might have come back, wearing your skin.' Perhaps I am another creature with stolen thoughts. I worry Tryndamere and I have been asking similar questions. 'You're still my stubborn Sejuani.'

'Since when have I been _yours_?'

'A girl can dream.' Her gaze wanders over my form. I feel naked as my hidden, hated sexual characteristics draw attention. 'Your boot's ripped. I'm guessing you've sprained your ankle.'

She was only checking for injuries. If only I could flee my toxic imagination or quash this body's electrical response. I can't look at her. 'Yes.'

'Here. Let's get you inside and warm you up.' I tense while she guides me to sit upright. Her arms encircle my waist like the coils of a snake. I pull away. 'Sorry! I…' her palm rests on my back. 'I promise I won't do anything untoward. I just want to help.'

Ashe's brazen touch was her deadliest weapon. As her captive, those eager hands brushed my hair, ears and mouth, working dark magics that control me to this day. However, it's not like her to express awareness, let alone contrition. I ponder what's changed as I grunt my consent and wrap an arm around her neck. I'm so glad she's wearing a cloak. It shields me from intoxication by her platinum-blonde hair.

We climb to our feet. Ashe looks at the ground, rather than for danger, as we commence our journey. Something's wrong. 'Ashe?' I'm thrown by her clemency. I have come to… expect her sensual punishment as the natural order of our relationship. 'Thank you.'

My gratitude spurs hope. She lunges, kissing one tiny corner of my lip, inciting thirst without quenching it. As my self-respect howls in defiance, my heart whimpers for more.

Time stops. The blood ceases flowing to her cheeks. 'I… No!' She covers her face in realisation. 'You startled me. To think you'd ever… _thank_ me for helping you and… it's not fair!' She frantically drops her anger. 'Two minutes… and I've already broken my promise.' I don't acknowledge her guilt. When it's clear that I'm not going to respond, she tries to bridge the chasm with small talk, vain little grappling hooks of communication. 'You're… lighter than you seem. I thought you'd lost weight… around your face. Are you sick or…?'

My visible decline is a raw subject. Thanks to Ashe's betrayal of my trust, her forbidden kiss, I have a perfect reason to keep any misery to myself.

She gives up. Her eyes flash with rage. We move in silence.

I conceal my weakness but, in questioning my heft, Ashe denies her strength. We're both liars.

* * *

The path leads to a cavern, buried amongst winding towers like the maw of a kraken. Ashe lights our way, brandishing a magical knife. The blue metal feebly shines with her naïve talent, a primal affinity for ice, the birthright of any Freljord woman. I'm sure I could amplify the weapon's glow, reveal every pothole and stalactite. However, watching her struggle soothes the burn of my dependence.

The ground is marked with endless tracks of blood, evidence of a predator heaving a carcass to its lair. The viscera piles thick and fresh, playing hell with the shallow tread of my boots. I nearly tumble. My flailing arms whip around Ashe in a lover's embrace. Her eyes plead as my gasp warms her neck. I resist her call.

We finally reach an artificial barricade. Rocks make up the base, while the top half comprises two fox pelts and a wind chime of bones. Anything heavier than cold air would rattle the grisly percussion and rouse the occupant. With a sweep of her glove, Ashe plays a morbid arpeggio. The stench of death rushes forth like a foul hurricane.

I am no stranger to the smell of war but I've rarely known such a vile combination of old and fresh meat. Ashe watches me convulse. I don't know whether I see pity, hope or triumph in her stare, while an impenitent warlord reveals a "human" side in response to butchery. She finally talks. 'I should have warned you. I've been sleeping with my kills. After I… did something terrible… for a second… I had a taste for human blood.' Her eyes go blank, as if a dead expression could enforce dead emotion. 'I thought if I grew numb to the smell, or grew sickened, I would… I wouldn't...' As our language fails, I conceive a million replies but only retch. Ashe regains her composure then rubs my back as if I'm an overgrown child. 'I'm sorry. There's an underground river. I can dispose of…'

'I'm _fine_.'

'You're not!'

'I am the Winter's Wrath!' though I hardly deserve my reputation. 'Do not use _me_ , of all people, as an excuse to surrender your trophies.'

'They aren't my "trophies". Whatever they call you, we have no titles here. Forget all of that and be a woman for once in your life.'

As if I would take the chance, after years of running away. 'That's easier said than done.'

Her smile darkens with mutual pain. 'I know.'

* * *

The rectangular cavern doesn't seem like an accident of geology. Some creature, with the means to fashion rock, must have sensed the water, burrowed a path then settled here. The river skirts the length of the right-hand wall. Ashe's knife remains our only source of light, so I can't see all the way to the back. Our comfortable space, before stalactites encroach, looks ten feet wide and eight feet high.

Resting my leg on Ashe's discarded rucksack, I watch enviously while she carves up less edible corpses with no trace of discomfort and throws them into the stream. 'You are a born hunter,' I say.

'Evidently,' she replies, wiping a stray lick of blood from her nose, 'but if I could choose…'

' _I_ wouldn't change you.' She pauses her work. Acceptance's lure can be powerful and unwelcome. 'The world bends to your arm. Were you born to my people, we could rule Valoran.'

Ashe peers at her gore covered sleeves. 'With your clan's tutelage, I'd have left you to die.'

'Maybe you should have.'

'Really? Take your own advice. Three times, you could have ended my reign. Twice, you withheld a lethal blow. The third time, you actually saved me.'

'That was necessary. While I was… gone, I saw the future.' Her curiosity will find a way should I not reveal my secrets. However, I should use disclosure to my benefit rather than squander it thoughtlessly. 'Had Lissandra's plan worked, your surviving allies would have prevailed. I couldn't allow their cancerous growth to smother the Freljord.'

Ashe laughs bitterly. 'So my leadership is an obstacle? I've had my suspicions… but you're the first person to come out and say it.' Her knife clatters off the ground. 'Why spare my life before that?'

'I was weak.' Ashe wants me to confess my love or mercy. Those "higher" thoughts are merely false alibies for base ruin. 'You look for hypocrisy in my deeds, a hidden belief in second chances, redemption, harmony… but there is no contradiction, just weakness and failure.' I look up into the shadows of her grey hood. With her pale skin and blue eyes, Ashe might be the reverse of Kalista, both, angels of death. 'And if I am weak then you should have punished me for it.'

'"Should" have punished you? What about choice?'

'You can do as you please.'

'Can I? Whether I kill or spare you… I am still cruel. What if I don't want to be cruel? How can I make _that_ choice?'

'Everything is possible here but…' I slump in defeat. 'I can't see like I once did.'

Ashe reclines next to me, presumably to give a shoulder to cry on. 'Sej…' realising her mistake, she covers her mouth.

'"Sej" is fine,' I concede. It's a barrier that, one day, would fall, in mockery or friendship. 'I've been called worse.'

'Haven't we all?' Ashe chuckles. 'Dare I ask?'

'Udyr,' I grumble. 'That's as much as you're getting.'

'So he's a thorn in your side as well? That might be cold comfort when he lures another scouting mission off a tall cliff.'

'I'm surprised your standing orders permit long chases.'

'Believe me. "Don't chase Udyr" tops the list in black and white but once people are in the wild, they do as they please.' I'm surprised Ashe doesn't apply the simple fix, a _positive_ response. _Do_ secure nearby settlements upon finding Udyr, rather than _don't_ chase him. Even if Ashe rivals the greatest minds from orthodox martial traditions, it reassures me to know she has blind spots. 'Oh, the joys of leadership, hey?'

She's looking for a peer, someone who knows what she's going through, but everyone at our level is on a different side. Her need is familiar to me. However lucky I am to know Volibear, he's more fluent in personal matters than logistics, and I can rarely have a nice long talk about supply chains, or the lifespan of hunting equipment versus weight or cost. Unfortunately, I can't share numbers with Ashe, far too dangerous. 'If anything, my tribe show too much loyalty. I'd rather they stood up to me once in a while.'

'You _are_ scary.' Lies, Ashe doesn't fear me, just herself.

I lift and stretch my wounded leg. 'Only by your standards. I can barely walk, let alone fight. If they're set on keeping me alive, they should at least relegate me to mucking out the boars rather than riding one into battle.'

'Perhaps they respect your other qualities, your courage and wisdom. Perhaps they just like having you in charge.'

'If they're so comfortable, they should revolt before they stagnate.'

'And refuse what they truly want? I think you're the only member of your tribe who feels obliged to suffer.' When I don't respond, Ashe tries to encourage me by lifting my chin. I pull away. Her sharp exhalation cuts like a sword. I can't say whether she's annoyed with her lack of discretion or my intransigence. 'Well, if you're set on feeling worthless, can I please myself?'

'Could I stop you?'

'I guess not. You're wounded… weary…' she bites her lip. 'I could… easily force my wishes upon you.'

My limbs tense and lock, all my strength turned against me, like a dragon swallowing its own fire. When our gazes meet, something passes, a quiet acknowledgement of dark halves we both despise. Briefly, I remember Volibear's comment about my refusal to claim lovers. In my position, Ashe would be a scourge upon daughters and mothers alike. Her appetite is plain to those who watch. Only tradition keeps her in check, while nothing stops me from discarding my current celibacy.

When Ashe talks again, her voice trips on each word. 'Of course, I would… never… do… _that_.' She winces. 'I _would_ like to provide a warm bed, a meal and whatever medicine I have.' She fetches a bulging satchel. 'I took this from our stock and I've had no reason to look inside.'

'You're that good?'

'I don't like to brag. It's more that I have an iron gut, and if I can't live off the land, I panic.' She gently pushes me down. I wonder if she feels my heart, pumping through the crook of my shoulder. She appears to savour the loosening of each knot in my bootlace. 'We can't have your foot swelling up in here.' The throbbing ache seems to race in delight when freed of its malodorous prison. Ashe walks her fingertip from ankle to instep. 'Hmm, your skin is very flushed. I know it's probably sore but you've no signs of deep frostbite.' With a coy smile, she tilts her head. 'You can see the blonde hairs leading up to your big toe.' She brushes the sole. 'I'm jealous. Even with all this grime, you have really high, beautiful arches. Mine are a bit low. Too much walking, I guess.' Despite a cavalcade of silent objections, I'm swooning from her care. She lightly kisses the ball of my foot. Something in my response must have given her courage. 'Nothing looks broken apart from your nails. I may have to file them.'

'Do you…?' Thrown by her attention, I can't really speak.

'What? Like feet?' Ashe looks wistful. 'I just like women but I knew a… girl who liked my feet… silly thing.' She goes quiet.

'An old lover?'

'A… recent one.' She looks hard at me. Should I be jealous? I am, but I _do_ like the idea of her spurning men, especially Tryndamere.

'Good,' I say. Her brow deepens at my response. 'You should ignore the petty rules of your tribe and quench your thirst.'

'You didn't see the mess I left her in.' Ashe wordlessly packs an abrasive poultice around my sprain.

'What do you mean?'

'Forget it!' She's punishing me by withdrawing her confidence. 'I don't want to hear you rhapsodise about what a great woman I am for torturing someone better.'

She roughly tosses a blanket over me then sets a fire going. I watch her turn a chunk of meat, already clean of blubber. Juice drips until a waxy, then charred, seal forms. Under the smell of burning flesh, I recognise the perfume and yellow flame of birch. It only grows in Ashe's territory. Countless raids upon her bountiful woods provided warmth and light for our banquets. I was never concerned with such fleeting pleasures but I sanctioned our many quests for timber as it encouraged our fighters and weakened our foes.

The power of the bright, smokeless fuel pales before the righteous blaze of Ashe. Her skin glows with passion. Her eyes glimmer, doors to the vast white plains of her cold, rational mind, all contained within womanly wonder… but she lives in fear and shame of her presence. Others leave no mark upon Valoran, while she tiptoes through corridors of paper, mourning every fold and footprint.

She deserves a world free of pathetic restraints. With a single blow, she could raze her venal house of cards. Instead, she chooses to carry it on her shoulders…

Just as Volibear carries me.

The battle for this land atrophies gradually from a clash of civilisations to a snake eating its own tail.

I'd save us all if I could.


	3. Chapter 3

I sleep, watching Ashe watch me. Once you've crossed over twice, death, dream, part of you remembers the divide, learns to see through it, haunting reality from afar like a ghost riding invisible currents of history.

Does my second sight mean this brutal warrior has become a shaman? All those paths I rejected or pursued, only to walk a third way, shown by the forced opening of my third eye.

The haunch of meat slowly cools in Ashe's grip. After going through the trouble of preparing a meal, her reward is my refusal. With an indulgent sigh, like a mother chiding a newborn, she jostles my shoulder, causing my dream-self to rock. All I have to do is answer the door but I remain here, uncommunicative, out of reach.

A new, familiar voice dashes my solitude. 'Are you scared?' I was not feeling Ashe's touch. Another person calls. I turn to face... myself, reclining naked, heavy bosom squeezed provocatively between biceps. One leg is drawn up, and one stretches out, offering a clear view of below. Shuddering, I turn away fast. 'Of course you are.'

'What is this? Who are you?' My snarl is a pitiful sham. I can hardly sound frightening without eye contact.

She ratifies my doubt with a low, grunting laugh. 'Hmm… you're stalling, what a surprise. You know _exactly_ who I am. All those long, lonely days you spent with Ashe in your fantasy, hiding… and now…' slithering nearer, she pollutes my senses, 'you stay with me to hide from Ashe, how delectable.'

'Answer my question!'

'You want… so badly…' The squelching of her tongue and saliva makes me cringe. 'To hear your words from these lips? What is that? Bravery, cowardice… or maybe self-love?' She fondles her breast. In vain, I strive to blank out her vile motion. Her filthy paw yanks her nipple to a stand, like a man, tugging at himself. I can only hope this memory vanishes with the dawn.

'Will you stop your game if I choose one?'

'Bargaining? Since when do you _trade_?' She barks the word with contempt. 'Fine, I accept your terms, Avarosan _bride_.'

Her knowledge runs beyond sight. Under my sleeve, I'm wearing Ashe's bracelet, an engagement present from a shared hallucination. After Volibear had entered a mystical trance to help unravel my despair, the holy thunder caused Ashe's claim to physically manifest. Apparently, the storm approves of chaos, and wearable shorthand for my treacherous heart was too much to resist. I couldn't bring myself to remove it.

"Avarosan bride" resounds mockingly through the cavern. As much as I crave to punish that offence, I don't have the will to bite, so I counter with an avalanche to cover my weakness. 'Bravery. I can submerge thoughts, deny them. A spoken word is an action, a scar upon time, a pact.' Each addition echoes above the following as my voice grows quieter. 'So long as you recall it, I am chained within your perception. I can add excuses, explanations, qualifications… nothing I can do will take away from the vision of me that's locked inside your memory.'

She nods. 'A blow to the skull works wonders… but I concede. Flesh remembers when our minds fail.' Our shoulders touch. 'You block your escape, surrender control of your persona… but is that really courage? Enduring is rarely an act of strength and conviction. Often, you just lose then suffer the consequences. Even if you show willing, you may be fooling yourself and inventing a choice when you have none.'

'If you _do_ have the strength, there is always a choice.'

'But you're flagging.' She puts her head on my shoulder. Greasy hair creeps over me, like a swarm of insects. 'I believe your answer. Truly, it may not be courage. It may be a light, shining in darkness.' Her panting is loud and obscene. I feel how it swells her body, leaves then tickles my jaw with tiny drops of lukewarm spit. 'I am Sejuani.'

'And I am thousands.'

Ashe gives up on waking me, her lovingly prepared meal refused with boorish lethargy. She ventures a few bites then throws it aside, unable to rouse her appetite. For a long time, she watches me silently, perhaps wondering if I'm worth the trouble. Her fingers trace my forehead, fringe, eyebrows, nasal bridge and septum. She hesitates above my lips, feeling hot life kiss her knuckles with each quiet snore.

'You came,' she murmurs to the gloom. Our fire is now dead. Her knife, mounted awkwardly in a cell of true ice, remains a dim source of light. 'You really came, despite your bloody-minded refusal to share a country, let alone a bed. I can hardly believe you're real. It sounds crazy but I sometimes forget where my dream ends and you begin.'

I can sympathise with that. She continues.

'Do you know how long I've been obsessed? Ever since we heard reports of a barbarian princess, my head was bursting with our possible adventures, walking side by side through ancient ruins, mountains and forests. I even wrote some of them down!'

Am I curious or mortified? How… detailed are these?

'You know how I talk about uniting the Freljord? I was… I wasn't lying. It's more that… you were part of us already. Together, we could embark on a journey of self-discovery, become each other's hidden truth. Yes, it would be difficult and scary but we'd grow to respect and… like each other… then…'

Ashe glows. I never thought she could look so young.

'Romantic stories were never just for teenage girls. I believe adults need more fantasy… need things that are a bit idealistic and silly. When I heard your name, "Sejuani", oh… I said it aloud a million times! Do you know…?' She leans over my bare cheek. 'How it feels on my lips? Your name is a kiss… my… Sej…' Her pout is a butterfly's wing above my sleeping face. 'Uani.'

Bolting upright, Ashe giggles nervously, patting my back as if praising a dog. I'm a good girl.

'Don't fret. I know you like to feel all proud, untouchable… self-possessed. I won't kiss you again before you kiss me, not when you're so… vulnerable…' Her breath grows ragged. 'You shouldn't have come to me like this. Don't you know what I'm like? Or maybe you _do_ know…'

She quickly shakes off that idea. When a person goes willingly to a spider's lair, do they consent irrevocably to consumption?

'How can I explain? Do you believe in love at first sight? When I meet an attractive woman, all I can think about is…' Her fine, strong hand lingers above the small of my back. 'You remember our first encounter, when you came to refuse my terms? All I could think about was offering my body rather than grain, sucking your harsh tongue all the way down my throat and peeling off your clothes. When you left, I couldn't move. They all thought I was paralysed with disappointment. I wasn't… I was under the spell of your big, sexy bottom. I'd follow that over a cliff. No wonder they made you chieftain!' Her laugh grates with desperate self-loathing. 'Is there any room, any space to fall in love when all you can think about is…?' Her palm drifts lower.

Sejuani plays with the fuzz at the base of my neck. 'She's more honest when you can't answer back with your juvenile critique. You praise her strength because you are scared of her desire… that hungry stare demoting you from a general to a mere woman, a sex object with sensitive, strawberry nipples atop round, welcoming breasts…' her nose brushes my tragus, 'and a moist, aching...'

I hiss. 'Your filth does not impress me! I've heard far worse.'

'You went through that phase, remember? Denying your womanhood, finding ways to "block it up". It was fun, riding through the plains with a piece of bone jammed up there, bulging through your underclothes like a stubby little cock. You felt really good. All those… tiny spasms… like you were morphing into something else… then you found your trainer getting spit-roasted and realised...'

'What are you trying to prove?' The force of my shouting has no visible effect. I can't reclaim any personal space without more contact, wrestling and squeezing and… it makes me sick. 'I also wet the bed and ate soil. A human child is a work in progress. I don't feel any shame for these trials that we must all endure!'

She tuts. 'Forgetting yourself? You mean "conquer", not "endure".'

'These word games tire me.'

'You should keep that in mind when you subject Ashe to your "insight".'

'Heed your own advice and shut up.'

A thick snort of derision blows down my collar. 'As always, you can stop a conversation… but why aren't you stopping _her_?'

My senses are wholly saturated with disgust. I can't see what's going on. 'What do you mean?'

A tug on my hair dispels the fog. 'See for yourself.'

Ashe reaches over my waistband. She watches my sleeping face for any response. Before long, she is kneading and grasping, running a finger up my valley, gauging size, weight, power, softness.

Ants crawl through my stomach. I'm painfully conscious of where my broad thighs rub. While I'm in agony, Sejuani relishes the performance. 'Ooh, she's naughty, groping you there. Can you feel it?' As I'm protesting, Ashe pulls my buttock aside. Air tickles my perineum and I moan with pleasure. 'Yes…'

'Ugh… no, she can't…'

'Why, because it's "wrong"? Our land is free of law, society, convention. Ashe can do whatever she likes… and she likes _you_.' Now that I can feel my body, the sensations multiply. 'The real question is why aren't you stopping her?'

'Because I'm asleep!' Shutting my eyes doesn't help.

'You can wake up any time. Catch her. She's already torn up with guilt. You lay it on, nice and thick, and she will never molest you again.' I can't move. 'Where is your pride? You've risen above the confines of your gender, fashioned an impregnable front. You let it slip once, your hard-earnt reputation is gone forever. You can give orders with the sternest voice but all your men will hear is an Avarosan milkmaid, writhing in ecstasy while common raiders pin her to the ground!'

I'm red with shame and frustration as the flames of arousal intensify. 'Shut up!'

'If you want her so badly then rise, act as a warrior. Claim her!'

'No!'

'Why not?'

'I… I can't!' My ears burn with the sound of my confession. 'You know I've tried! I can't love weakness. I… can't make love to anyone who surrenders to me.'

'Oh, that is a bind. So you must renounce love or renounce yourself, let Ashe violate you.'

The point of no return is approaching. Ashe's fingers are now stroking my tailbone, exposing more as each rotation pushes my britches further down. Her face contorts in a mockery of lust. Every sinful urge is concentrated, used as energy to fuel her self-loathing. I drive words through my paralysis. 'No… I… can't…'

'What? Resist… yield?'

I honestly don't know. 'She's torturing herself.'

'It feels good. _You_ feel good.'

I'm beyond any plausible denial. 'It's not worth… uh!' My lips form an "o" shape as nails glide across my skin. 'Please! Can't you hear them, all the voices telling her that she's a monster? We _have_ to be there to silence them! Otherwise…' Her fallout would be spectacular, perhaps fatal.

'You're asking for my help when you can't help yourself? We despise weakness!'

I grab Sejuani, meeting her face to face. 'And love _her_!'

Time stops. In halting, slow motion, I roll, scaring Ashe into double speed. Her arms backpedal over charcoal remains, powdering her seat with dark residue. Sejuani's critical eyes grow damp. She looks young, far too young, when she cries. No wonder Volibear saw my tears and behaved like a parent. With a simple kiss, a warm, sisterly gesture, she whimpers. 'I do.'

'We _all_ do.'

Sejuani pulls me to her bosom. After such a confession, I expected our roles to be reversed. Within our shared anguish, her breasts are like huge blobs of sweaty clay. So that's why Ashe goes for my hips.

I close my eyes. The dream world slowly disintegrates. I pray that I can resist Ashe again while I'm trapped. Above me, Sejuani rains kisses all over my head. 'You poor thing…' loud sobs punctuate her words. 'Always putting her first, you poor thing…'


	4. Chapter 4

I wake in pitch blackness. Our makeshift lamp is missing from its perch. In her angst-ridden fugue, Ashe could have stumbled across anything. Our land is cruel to the careless.

Tentatively, I clamber to my knees. A flash of pain reminds me that I won't be standing on two feet. I may have torn cartilage with the sprain. Crawling through the dust, I reach for the wall. There's true ice dotted around this cavern. If I locate one vein…

A jolt runs through my hand. While true ice can disintegrate flesh, I can somehow channel it. Thanks to the placement of the stars on a winter's eve, I was born a mage.

Few people know. Because of Lissandra's corruption of the Frostguard, any magical talent is a barrier to command. Even if our duelling pit swam with the blood of my victims, no one alive would follow me. They'd rather die than become thralls.

After my parents heard of my future dominance, they bribed someone to permanently brand me with arcane shackles, a pattern of scarred flesh upon thickened, irregular bone. Hidden beneath my hair, storm-hewn spirals embellish my scalp. If they weren't evidence of my sorcerous birth, I'd shave my head as they're very striking.

I was never told who kept our secret. With time, I recognised ursine glyphs. However, the trail grew cold. Volibear was an outsider before his ordination. Few people shared gossip with the malcontent, fewer still with the man in charge.

After receiving my legendary flail, I was given a chance to flex my power, stealthily blending ice magic with my weapon's enchantment. I've made progress but I'm still numb, thanks to my brand. It's like boxing when you can't feel your fists. You can swing forever but your progress crawls without feedback, and your knuckles may become chalk.

I siphon magic into the vein, guiding a river that wends through the rock. Azure lights flicker, primeval teardrops glisten. A swarm of tiny growths pepper the ceiling, while dense colonies glower from opposite walls. Finally, two blossoms, frozen apart in a circular dance, divide armies like warring roses.

It feels like I'm outside, watching fireflies congregate above torches, beneath a clear sky with twin moons.

All around is endless motion. Beside other materials, with their trembling atoms, true ice dwells in a perfect, unique stasis, throwing invisible forces into sharp relief. I can feel the waves of light crashing one after another, though my human eyes are too slow to parse the million separate images.

Ashe's cave is wholly revealed. I'm surprised at how warm it is without a fire. The stream bubbles with geothermic energy. Fascinating, I wasn't aware of any potential volcanoes. Our maps will need updating.

How much of the Freljord has the prodigal Ashe walked? I can't understand why such an explorer tolerates and encourages Avarosan decadence.

I crawl to my blanket, with only my broken body, traitorous heart and empty soul for company. Moments like these are supposedly valuable, chances to consider my feelings and actions.

I've never been consciously reflective, yet I struggle to lose myself. The disconnection affords me prescience in battle. A cool mind helps to form tactical manoeuvres. When confronted with personal demons, I'm a slave to the past. Unbidden thoughts and memories devour the present. I lose control of the future, dressing old wounds while fresh blood is pooling at my feet.

Of course, without my soul, there is no future.

Someone approaches with Ashe's recognisable rhythm. A question mark interrupts her flow. My new lights peep through the bony curtain. Silence drags on and on while she waits for clues of a trap. Eventually, I speak. 'Ashe, the lights are my doing. You're safe to come in.'

She bounds through the clattersome drapes like a hairless monkey, landing on all-fours. Her back is laden with grisly remains, held in place with an excess of rope. She carries a dripping, ominous cloth sack and her knife, while her bow snaps diagonally across her torso from shoulder to hip. While she disentangles her load, Ashe's mouth opens in wonder. The low hood obscures her eyes. 'What the… Sejuani, how…? Ugh!' With an audible thwack, the bowstring whips her face by mistake.

When I pad over to help, she cowers, roaming hands close to her chest. I refuse to bear this awkwardness. 'You must know I felt you groping me.'

Like a rodent, she lifts her paws to her mouth. 'I'm sorry!'

'Don't be.' Her nose jerks up at my response. 'I'm not upset. I may be upset if you dwell on it.'

'Why must you excuse every horrible thing I do? Can't you punch me for once?'

'Why should I? You've expressed your interest and I chose to sleep in your care.'

'You weren't receptive when I found you lying outside.'

'I felt vulnerable then… I…' can hardly say that I watched her dangling over the metaphorical abyss from an astral projection. 'I've improved enough that I can take it, so you're hurting yourself more than me.'

'Your boundaries depend on our current strength? I don't agree.'

'But of course they do. Boundaries are nothing without enforcement, and intrusion is nothing without consequence.'

'I dread to imagine your tribe's courtship rites.'

I recognise her anger. She thinks me a traitor to the female drudges toiling under my rule, as if any solidarity comes from an accident of birth. 'The Winter's Claw do not have "courtship rites". You are free to sing a ballad, offer trinkets or dedicate victories. You may seize your beloved, earn acceptance with the blaze of your passion…'

'And if she refuses?'

'You are free to persist… while she is free to respond with violence, humiliation or death. We train everyone to kill, so no woman is defenceless.'

'What if you become helpless through no fault of your own?' Ashe indicates my leg. It's a bad example. That's definitely my fault. She's labouring to draw lines between her points and my situation.

'I might ask you the same question. Your petty laws are nothing without an eye watching every house, and a patrol on every doorstep.'

'We're not animals. Fear of punishment is one safeguard, yes, but we also have respect.'

'As do we.'

'Say that again to my people!' Ashe waves her knife. 'Do you know how many children your barbarians have forced upon our women?'

I gratefully receive her antagonism. However wrong she might be, conviction will serve her better than self-doubt. I want more from her. 'Should your _growers_ prefer to be weak and oppose me, they deserve their chosen role. Your troops kill just as eagerly. They don't replace _our_ dead with new seed.'

'If you consider that a gift, you should open your legs to your people and spare mine!'

'Why should I, when I'm better placed on the battlefield? I am a _warrior_. The "barbarians" you decry give me the respect I have _earnt_. I can have more of an impact without a child weighing me down.'

Her aggression dissipates. Leaning back, she removes her cowl. 'It's funny.' She's not laughing or smiling. 'You've been… so quiet. We began to wonder if, because of your injuries, you were found a new purpose… replacing a… broken Sejuani with a new Sejuani.'

'You thought I was…?'

'Pregnant.' Ashe looks away. She's worried that she's touched a nerve. 'Well… Anivia, Braum and Gragas did… only Tryndamere wasn't convinced.'

I'm stunned. Have our claws been so blunt? I would have achieved more through… motherhood. Our maps would be no different, and I'd… have a child. Every time I consider the possibility, my brain stalls. 'What about you?'

'I…' she blurts out, 'a part of me hoped it was true.' Betrayal hits me like a frozen club. How could she _want_ me to begin a family without her? Could anyone hate themselves that much or did I… presume the depths of her love? She continues. 'Perhaps if you… had a son or a daughter, you'd think twice before killing ours.'

'It doesn't work,' I say quietly. 'My fiercest raiders are parents many times over.' The berserk Olaf has more children than he can rightly count. He remembers names. He just has a blind spot for numbers. The once-calm Volibear is unhappily childless but ever since I fell, crying into his arms, paternal rage has clouded his judgement. Would it make a difference whether I magically fathered or birthed a child? How would I change? 'Perhaps I should have been… repurposed.'

'You don't want that…'

'Who cares if it's what I _deserve_?'

Ashe glares. 'Do you know what I've come to really hate about you, Sejuani?'

'Go on.'

'You accept imaginary pain to justify hurting others. If you were forced to bear a stranger's child, you wouldn't accept it. You would swear bloody vengeance upon this whole world.'

'Would _you_?'

'I…' She hesitates. 'Well, yes, but I'd have to make sure the babe was all right and…'

'Exactly. You can think beyond yourself. So can I.'

'The problem is, you think beyond everyone. People say there's nothing in your heart, a void in your soul.' Rumours are true for once. 'I've… stupidly convinced myself that you have beauty inside and you run away from it. Even saying it like that I… believe.' Looking around the cave, she murmurs in wonder. 'These lights.'

'An accident of nature. Those are true ice deposits. I can… charge them.'

Ashe blinks. 'You can…what? I never suspected _you_ were conjuring all that frost. I thought it was your weapon!'

'Half and half.'

'You're a mage?'

'Sort of… well… yes. My talent was inhibited when I was a girl to prepare me for leadership.'

'How cruel.' Ashe mourns a forsaken past, full of beautiful patterns like she's viewing now. 'You could have become…'

'Another Lissandra?'

'They limited your potential! How can you accept your constraints while deploring mine?'

'You don't appreciate how magic enslaves people,' I say. 'Despite all the controversy about shadows, forbidden tomes and necromancy, the most volatile mages are elementalists, Brand, Lissandra, Vladimir…'

'Volibear?' She's trying to blindside me on a subject she knows nothing about. Of course, the whole universe demands her interference, capable or not.

'He's a priest. Look, Ashe, I can still use magic. I just can't feel it. I'm spared its control. You know how to lip-read?' She nods. 'If you speak a language but lose your hearing, you can still follow a conversation.'

'Do you know if it's reversible?'

'I've more important things to consider.'

She grimaces at my nonchalance. 'The world's missing out. You're an artist.'

'I feel the same regarding your prowess in war.'

'My talent is a greater curse than your magic.' She roughly disentangles her load. 'You can provide a romantic welcome. The only thing I can give you… is death.' Two white foxes hit the ground. One has a clean puncture wound above its jugular. The second animal was pinned through the belly then finished with a second smile beneath its jaw.

'They're very fat. Well spotted.'

'One of their cubs went exploring on his own, gave away their location. I killed both parents. They had three more cubs, hardly worth the pelts. I… couldn't watch them starve. I took six lives to preserve my own, a whole family.'

I don't understand how an experienced ranger like Ashe holds on to remorse. You can respect your game, yes, but weeping every time is empty masochism. Your tears don't spare lives. 'They also lived off creatures that made wrong turns. Your pity is unwarranted.'

'You think we're the same… as animals?'

'We're all the same to the Freljord. Human… fox… boar… the only real tribes are the quick and the dead. I have more time for _Bristle_ than I do for snivelling fools.'

A primal twitch warps her face. However civilised she may be, the wilderness creeps, little by little. She must have been here a long time. Could any of us deal with Ashe, unchained? 'You sound like _her_ , bonding with animals.'

There's only one kind of relation who provokes that emphasis. 'Are you talking about your ex-lover?'

'Yes, but you _can't_ sound like her. She brought out the worst in me.'

Jealousy catches like phlegm. I can deal with people knowing Ashe carnally, but the thought of them rousing uncharted depths really stings. 'How?'

'So many reasons… but you're safe, because you're _not_ like her.' Those words feel more like a plea than a statement. Ashe's arm coils back. ' _She_ cares for the dead, while you'd have no trouble with _this_.' Launching her sack with the force of a ballista, she knocks the wind out of me. The load is heavy, hot and wet. Recovering, I steel my resolve and untie the string with slow, careful movements.

I peer into the darkness… and touch noses with the severed head of a polar bear.

My scream is hard enough to rip all the veins out of my bruised and weary heart. All the little fragments of my composure rain like sand across my lungs.

I can see the bone structure isn't ursine. I've spent enough time with them to recognise the broad, expressive mouth and high brow. Despite our pretence, we are creatures of instinct. Fear gallops where truth walks, and I was confronted with the spectre of a dead Volibear.

The kill is fresh and disgusting. One eye is a bloody mess. A ragged flap of neck sways like the hem of a skirt. Ashe's grip was clearly shaking when she claimed her prize. The creature was probably majestic in life but now its anger seems comical, pathetic. Our hunters prefer the claws.

While I'm shaking with emotion, Ashe looks utterly spent. 'How do you cope?' she whispers. 'You're this paragon of cruelty, laden with self-denial, mercy, devotion, forgiveness… qualities that all of my kin profess, but seldom attain. I've watched so many false tears well at our gatherings, while yours fall unbidden. You scorn us with your cold, ugly sermons, while expressing warmth. How do you _cope_?'

I scour my cheek raw. Does biology never tire of betrayal? 'Everyone struggles to master themselves and live by their creed. Why should _I_ break when others endure?'

'Because you're denying your humanity!'

'You deny ours!' My temper frays. I'm reeling from her stunt with the polar bear's head. 'You go on like I'm some lost orphan, running with wolves, and all I need is rescue by a "proper" family. No! The Winter's Claw are _people_ , good people! We mourn our losses, fall in love, raise our children. What we don't tell them is how they should _act_. We do not revere strength because we lack intelligence or instruction. We know that a powerful chieftain benefits everyone, while a performer who can show the right emotion at the right time only benefits!'

'If your tribe are so tolerant of "wrong" emotions, why do you suppress them?'

'I don't! You know, all too well, how to separate feelings and principles. Just look at your marriage!' A very sore point. How does Runeterra make such a political game of intimate relationships? 'I can oppose your nation while admiring your person. I can lead a charge while emptying my bowels in fear. Why do conflicting impulses have to be such a problem?'

Ashe looks into space. 'I… know from experience that you can't live as two people,' she says. 'You can try but… eventually, you will crack.'

'Everyone contains multitudes. We can't resolve them all. Conflict is inevitable… within and without.'

'I'm sick of battles.'

'Then you should aim to win, rather than suffer well.'

Ashe weighs my response like a new blade. 'Against whom? Self-doubt… or you?'

'Both.'

'You don't want that.' She muses. 'You'd sooner die.'

'Perhaps, but if you keep worrying about what I want, you'll never know peace. It will have to come at my expense, whether you like it or not.'

'I see.' Her loaded stare bores into me. I recall my teenage experience, claiming a woman as my prize after a long hunt. I couldn't even bring myself to undress fully, let alone come. I felt so miserable that I never had sex again. To this day, I've not shared an orgasm with anyone but myself. Ashe finally speaks. 'I'm going to have a bath then take a nap. You have two chances to make your decision.'

'Are you asking me to sleep with you?'

She laughs. 'No… no, that door's been wide open from the start.' Her smile fades.

'Then…'

'You've made it enough times already.' She begins taking off her clothes. I turn out of respect, earning a harsh reply. 'This is for your benefit as well. If you won't fuck me, the least you can do is look.' I force myself to comply, meeting Ashe's gaze while she pulls down her britches. When she notices I'm avoiding her figure, she halts her movements. 'Are you shy? Do The Winter's Claw have any time or place for modesty?'

'Well… not really.' The truth is complex, and I have issues apart from convention. I can't explain while confronted with Ashe's bare thighs.

'Then what's wrong?'

'You deserve more than to be viewed like an object.'

'I would like to be viewed as a _woman_.' She bears down upon me, her groin, a mere tongue's length away. My pulse rocks through my skull. I crave to gorge on her essence, inhale so deeply that all else vanishes. 'Can't you see my flaws… my dimples, dry skin, ugly stretch marks? I haven't shaved my legs for a month. You could scour pots with them. I reek from wearing one set of clothes… all the bile and blood from countless kills, absorbed into my flesh. Am I still a goddess?'

Luckily, my tired eyes filter those wonderfully human details through a glossy haze. 'Always. Even if you kneel to serve a terrible cause, you will always be a goddess.'

'Perhaps I feel the same about you… giving praise at the feet of a dirty, vicious whore that opposes your way of life. You can do better.' Something falls over my head. One cup of Ashe's bra fits like a mask. In soft, woven darkness, faintly damp and stiff from wear, I listen to her voice. 'Perhaps I hate you? Does it even occur to you that I have feelings, while you love my cruel deeds from afar? _Should_ I hate you?'

'If that's what I deserve.' I fold her bra in my hands, and see her dip into the stream. Her slender, winnowed legs, built for precision rather than strength, end in a dramatic arch, full, high and feminine. Her smooth delicate waist appears even smaller beneath her wide breasts. They are proud with colour, an expanse of creamy tones with large, dark areolas. Her arms and shoulders are a temple of raw strength, the base of a triangle driving into the ground. She naturally has the shape I wanted as a child.

Ashe rests her arms over the bank, watching me. 'I'm defenceless.' Her fingers tense into claws. 'I've taken advantage of people… sexually, politically… do you suppose Tryndamere granted legitimacy to my rule because he shared my vision or because he'd lost his tribe? Do you think young, innocent girls, despairing for the warm touch of a woman, can refuse the cold embrace of Queen Ashe?'

'You are never defenceless.'

'And you are so _very_ wrong.' Ashe rests her cheek on folded arms. 'I've been exposed in… just about every way you can think.'

'And you're alive.'

'Is that really my doing… or yours?' With a deep, theatrical sigh of contentment, she closes her eyes as if going to sleep. 'I left you my knife.'

The strange, long-handled weapon lies before me. 'Good, if someone attacks, they will face my wrath.'

'You shouldn't wait. If you know someone's dangerous, you should kill them before they kill you.'

'I can defend myself.'

'I hope so… I really do.'

We don't speak until Ashe rises from the stream, her blonde hair, dark and heavy. She gathers all of the kindling and animal carcasses into one massive pyre. The blaze is overwhelming, far too strong for the small cavern. I ask, 'what are you doing?'

'I should wash and wax my clothes before they split. If I don't run a fire, they'll take forever to dry.'

'But…' something's not right, ' _all_ of your supplies?'

'I can get more.'

Soon, I grow dizzy. Writhing in discomfort, I'm forced to remove layers before I pass out. Ashe dumbly potters about, ignoring me. There's active aggression in her silence, like she's made a conscious decision to block out my suffering. I'm down to my long underwear. Perspiration drenches my forehead. I can feel every place where skin rubs on skin, between my fingers, my armpits, my buttocks. The heat aggravates my sprain. I barely notice the passage of time. Uneasy thoughts blur as the cave shimmers. I journey though skies under rock, and as I finally come to land, Ashe dozes by the fire, still naked. I see every notch in her spine, a dozen ways to conquer the Freljord. One deep thrust and it's all over.

The sublime landscape of her torso rises… then falls… rises… then…


	5. Chapter 5

Sleep... unconsciousness? A primal fear stalks the gloomy dungeons within. I locked it away, not of out cowardice. There was no choice. It was a battle I couldn't win.

A seal has broken. I am hunted, and my flagging, helpless mind sought oblivion because there was no escape… to another world, another self.

* * *

I awake.

Somewhere in darkness, I hear a slow, chalky scraping… over and over… like a headsman sharpening an axe. I turn as quietly as possible. The fire is now dust. Above me, the true ice deposits no longer shine with stellar beauty. They resemble vermin, a plague of eyes, greedily watching a corpse. The air has cooled, yet I am lacquered with sweat.

Ashe crouches, undressed, worrying the ground with our only source of illumination. Her magical knife draws angular patterns into the ground, while her fair skin purely mirrors their blue radiance, like a pool under moonlight. She looks in my direction. Even now, her brilliant eyes refuse to blend with their surroundings. The pale colours of enchantment form a weak imitation of her natural glory. She looks apprehensive, yet resolved.

'You're awake,' she says. Even if Ashe prowls like a savage beast, a wilful shard of human expression remains jammed in her core. Self-knowledge haunts pleasure and pain. I can't read her mind, of course, but I've faced her in battle enough times. Her strategy cries louder than words.

'Yes… why are you still naked?'

'Animals don't wear clothes.' With an exaggerated swing of her bottom, she pads over to me. 'We're the same, yes?'

'Animals don't lay down their weapons or armour.'

'We shed our coats in summer. Why keep anything with no purpose?' Like a mountain lion, Ashe prowls in a slowly decreasing circle, offering a full view of her body. There are few sights more hypnotic than her liquid muscles flowing around her back and arms. 'After all, you're no threat. You've had your chance.'

'Aren't you cold?'

'I'm… _burning_.' Ashe's gaze wanders over my breasts. I pray my nipples don't respond as one skimpy layer preserves my dignity. Her nose and brow crease like a snarling wolf. 'You have one chance to release me... say it.'

'I… Say what?'

'Say… that I am _evil_.'

'Why?'

'You need a reason? _You_ launched your crusade against _me_!' Before I can reply, she barks an example. 'Try this. I didn't kill that polar bear in self-defence. I didn't kill it for sustenance or profit. I killed it for one reason… to cause you pain. He was magnificent, a paragon of his kind, a symbol of the Freljord… and I brutally murdered him so I could punish you for caring. I gave him a death that was beyond meaningless, a death not even _you_ could justify!' She growls through her molars. 'Tell me… tell me that I am evil.'

I murmur. 'Good and evil are false notions held by the weak.'

'Heaven, preserve me! Don't be so trite! Others can play the games you can. Your idea of strength is every bit as malleable.' Ashe draws near, manic eyes reflecting the void. 'We all have experience of injustice, cruelty and selfishness. Those experiences may vary but we share one word across nations for people who further them. I ask you again. Say that I am evil.'

How can she hate herself this much? Ashe is worth more than her jealous, fearful entourage. They preach to the skies that her great will is a burden, a destructive energy to be hidden from view, harnessed only to conserve endless decay. There has to be one determined voice offering praise. I will never clip her wings. However dangerous, I must accept her wrath. 'I don't think you're evil.'

Ashe whimpers. 'Okay.' Breath accelerates, rising in pitch. Hers or mine, we cannot say. 'Then receive the darkness you would embrace. Avarosa, punish me for what I have become!'

Her knife sprays blood as it leaps from calf to jugular. My yell comes to a sudden halt. Any wrong turn or swell of my neck will be the last. Eager nips of my flesh urge me down. Ashe grabs a fistful of my hair to further expose my throat as her knees drive into my lap. All the pride I have left reinforces my core to preserve that one precious inch between my shoulders and the ground. She notices my reluctance and, with a harsh grunt, slams her palm into my breastbone, finally doing the impossible.

The Winter's Wrath, the scourge of the Freljord, was put on her back.

Ashe licks my skin with her blade, heaving a ragged sigh with each long stroke as if pleasuring herself. One side of her countenance gawps with terror, lust and righteous fury. The other side lurks beneath the long shadow of her natural parting. Her steel gathers my dread up and over my jaw, smearing it across my cheek.

I feel hesitation, a weakness in her grip. Underneath her satyric rapture, hides a germ of doubt. I know close combat, one circular motion, a crack on her sensitive radial bone with the edge of my hand is all I need. With Ashe disarmed, I have the size advantage. Even though I can't walk, stand or throw a meaningful punch, I could wrestle her down with my sheer bulk. I perceive counters, holds, reversals that I could use with no personal risk. It's child play… but a thousand reflexes, honed through countless brawls, are deathly still.

The weight of Ashe's desire pins me down. I'm scared. All the world is my domain, to shape as I choose, while my body remains a foreign land. Helplessly, I could only watch my perennial cage grow soft and welcoming, even as I dug a moat, wide as the broadest ocean. However, the darkest lagoon surrenders an icy bridge to a frozen tread. Ashe's tactical brilliance and ruthless drive are as cold as the blue steel kisses upon my nose.

For one precious moment, I hold onto my virtue, shaking arms held aloft in defiance. They flop, either side of my blushing ears, palms facing upwards.

My gates open.

Ashe reads my submission and lowers the tip of her knife to my lips, gently prising them apart. I shiver as the weapon taps on my teeth. Quick as an Avarosan whore, my drawbridge lowers. I carefully wrap my tongue around the flat of the blade as the cool, smooth weapon glides into my throat. Ashe goes deeper until only the thick, circular handle protrudes from my suggestively puckered face. I pray the subtle curve does not scrape on my walls or trigger my gag reflex.

With a slow, sensual rhythm, Ashe moves the blade, in and out. Amidst all the terror, the feeling of that impeccable surface wetly massaging and stimulating my supple, sensitive muscle grows revoltingly pleasant. My fingers and toes curl. Ashe's keen eyes notice immediately. 'How does it feel, Sejuani, to be fucked in the mouth against your will? Could you face your tribe, your loved ones, after writhing in pleasure beneath someone you despise? Do you really deserve such humiliation, even if I am stronger? Does anyone?' Ashe grips my chin between her thumb and forefinger. 'Bite,' she commands. I clench my teeth and Ashe lets go of the handle. The blade angles towards my palate. However, the tip falls short, a final mercy before the pain escalates.

Ashe grabs my neckline with her strong archer's hands. The hem yields to her fangs and I feel hot saliva mix with cool air on my collarbone. She rips a straight line to my navel then buries her face in my belly, kissing and licking all those thick, useless folds that conceal my tough abdominals. I squeal in protest while she lavishes praise on ugly parts of my body. So many times, I had yearned for a medusa's gaze. If I were a statue, perhaps a mason would sculpt away my failure.

While Ashe's attention is caught, I have a slim chance to remove the blade. As I begin to formulate a plan, Ashe reaches for my bosom. I twitch and hyperventilate as her fingers trail the rise of my breasts, reverently parting the torn curtains of my vest. When she finally exposes my nipples, I think I die for a whole second. Ashe gapes in wonder, panting as though merely watching me is akin to a thousand holy sisters worshiping her sex. 'Oh Sejuani, you're perfect… so full and strong and feminine! I can't believe there aren't legends of your beauty… songs and paintings and… the world is blind! If I were a man, I'd make you pregnant a thousand times over and repopulate the world in your image!'

I vehemently shake my head, emitting a drone like a buzzing fly, to drown out her words. That is _my_ dream! I always wanted to give _her_ children. Even if it's impossible, please don't take that away from me… please…

Ashe draws an effleurage above my womb, as if conjuring some dark magic to fertilise me, then returns upwards. Her fingers trace my sternum, circle the top of my ribcage then form soft claws, her nails close up the rise of each breast, finally pinching my hard nipples. I have to scream but I can't. Ashe's deadly gag reduces my knotty sexual pain to simply that of a beaten dog, a feral mixture of snorts, growls and whines. I point my toes until my feet cramp. Ashe involves her tongue, exploring and lapping. For a moment, she appears to forget herself, closing her eyes and sucking with utter relaxation. Our gazes meet and something tender, some unspoken regret, passes… then her brow hardens with cruelty.

She quickly discovers that I respond more to ruthless tickling and scratching underneath and alongside my breasts rather than direct attention. I'm grateful that I can't verbalise my surrender with pleas to work my groin. It feels like I'm on the verge of wetting myself, or that my nipples are going to leak. As the pressure grows, I divert all remaining control to my pelvis, letting my head thrash, drool and warp in grotesque arousal. The shame of relinquishing my private bodily functions to another person would kill me for good.

Ashe drives me to the point of no return. I feel no crescendo, cadence or catharsis… only the brief spasms of painful orgasm about as fulfilling as a light sneeze. My form has utterly betrayed me. I claimed no satisfaction, didn't so much as clench a muscle to hurry my peak. All agency was denied. A true fighter's body would have responded with violence, apathy or taken over the situation to control the flow of pleasure. No... I submitted. I suffered and then... with the completion of my wretched biological destiny... I came.

There's no going back. Whenever I shout orders, the truth will shine through my words. I am no leader of men, a brother stallion above their desire, outperforming them in every role. I am just another woman who gets off on being pinned down and fucked like a sack of meat. Rolling onto my side, Ashe's dagger slithers to the ground. Shorn of its glow, the blade is tiny, far out of proportion to its large handle. I was brought low by cutlery. The humiliation is too much. I begin to cry.

'Sejuani?' My face contorts, growing red and infantile as tears flood my banks. Disgraceful bawling echoes through the cavern. It may be a respite, hearing it from without, rather than inside, my head. 'Se… Sejuani?' Curling up into a foetal position, I turn away from Ashe. 'No… please don't cry! You're strong, remember? You've fallen so many times but you keep on fighting!' Her words reach my ears but have no effect, empty sounds with no physical power to change the world. 'You haven't lost! All I did was take advantage. There's no meaning. You can still hold your head up high!' She tugs at my shoulder but all she can do is push my gaze further downwards. 'Remember when I took you prisoner and you wouldn't give us an inch of satisfaction? You didn't care that we'd entrapped you. We were still "Avarosan scum" and you kept your dignity!' She drapes her warm weight across my side. 'Nothing's changed. I'm still worthless and you're still… pure… my beautiful, pure Sejuani… whom I…' she judders. 'What have I done? Sweet Avarosa, what have I done?' Ashe crawls away. Beneath my wailing, I hear choking sobs from her direction. 'I'm a monster… even Lissandra would have the kindness to end your life rather than _destroy_ you. These bloody paws are a curse upon the living. I was right all along. My people deserve better. Everyone does...'

A chill disturbs my grief. There's more than self-disgust in Ashe's tone. I feel something… rational, a destination.

Just why had she come here?

With that one question providing focus, I power through the mists of agony… to see Ashe plunging the knife into her gut. From broken springs, I launch myself into her, sending us both to the ground. I pin her beneath my weight, seize her arm and block her lethal cut with my thigh. Her grip is determined. I lack the raw strength to pry her fingers back so I use the deadliest move I know.

I kiss her.

She goes stiff as a corpse then relaxes while I manipulate her with slow, delicate motions. I don't involve my tongue. I suck her lip and let go… again and again… as though beckoning her soul from the depths. When I feel the tension leave her wrist, I quickly change focus and pull the blade free, hurling it across the room. It's bad form to yank an impaled object away, sometimes it's the only thing preserving a victim's life, but I can't risk Ashe renewing her suicide attempt. Luckily, her satchel is within arm's reach. I can pull it close while keeping her restrained.

Ashe croaks. 'Please… no…'

I'd rather not indulge her objections but I have to keep her engaged. If she passes out, she may not wake up. 'You've caused me enough anguish for one lifetime.' I dig through the satchel. 'Your scouts have been very generous with these packs. I know the contents well.'

'Agh… I… can't raise everyone to my standard,' Ashe manages through clenched teeth. 'At least I now have a way to send you gifts.'

I peck her on the lips, a reward for an implied future. 'Changed your mind about killing yourself?'

'I thought I'd… lost you.'

Even if my candour proves rash, I'm too sore to let her down easily. 'You probably have… in a way. The old Sejuani may be gone forever.'

'I'll miss her.'

The sorrow is contagious. 'We'll… mourn her passing once I've prevented yours.' The wound in Ashe's belly hangs open. It must be six inches long. Evidently, she'd overcome her initial trauma. 'Disembowelment's a poor way to go, painful and unreliable.'

'Is this a good time to be giving advice?' Ashe makes a very good point. However, I'm bad at small-talk, and I'm desperate enough to keep her with me that I'm brainlessly parroting what I can see.

'Blame Olaf. He knows far too much about ritual suicide, has an unwelcome story for every banquet.' I nearly shout in relief when I find a small vial containing a green, pungent liquid. We've no idea where it comes from but it's a very powerful adhesive. One of my raiders reattached a severed finger that works to this day. Shedding the remains of my top, I fearlessly bare my torso. 'This is going to hurt. You might want to bite down on something.' I stuff the fabric into her mouth. 'Consider this payback.'

Ashe squeals like a pig and thrashes wildly as the glue seeps. I've seen hardened warriors reduced to gibbering wrecks by it. Skin pops and blisters while the salve melds the bloody gorge into a fleshy bridge. Enough battles decorate Ashe's form. Another scar will make no difference. While she recovers, I use the satchel to raise her legs and fetch her blanket. With the blood loss, there's every possibility she'll go into shock. I wrap us together, my lips on her temple. When she tries to speak, her voice is a drawling stream of quiet vowels. 'I'm sorry. You shouldn't be looking after me.'

I kiss her again. 'Hush… rest for now. We'll talk later.'

Sniffing like a child, she begs. 'You promise we'll talk… not fight?'

'Yes.'

'That's… all I ever wanted.' Ashe closes her eyes. I know from experience that her salve knocks you out. Often, it's a hammer blow to your nerves, a white flash before you wake, hours later. I'm strangely proud she held on for those few seconds, my strong, wilful Ashe.


	6. Chapter 6

_I dreamt of another world, a life shared. After I kissed Ashe within her cell, before I gave my soul to Kalista, my subconscious wrote another script, where bloody violence became tense harmony. All dreams had gone with the black spear but, through either Ashe's proximity, or my stress, our curious refuge has returned._

_Outlandish conveniences, new to waking eyes but familiar now, decorate our flat. I sit on a firm bed,_ our _bed, watching the walls. Our relationship was at a crossroads. We wanted a family but argued about the details. Ashe wanted one of us to give up work for the child. Until recently, there was no question of my staying home but Ashe earnt a promotion, which levelled our salaries. My unsociable job with mountain rescue had always been a point of contention, while Ashe worked office hours for an academy. Now my only counter was a lack of parental warmth. I could rightly be selfish but it would cast a long shadow across our impending marriage._

_Something had to break._

_Our front door scrapes. I'd promised to fix that when I got home this morning. Ashe calls, 'Honey-bear?' with rising concern. She knows I don't ignore my responsibilities. Her footsteps roam softly. No matter how much I protest, Ashe claims that I wake up easily when I'm on nights, that I growl whenever she moves. I think she's projecting her frustration._

_She peers into the bedroom. Throughout her approach, an awful haze obscures her loveliness but I know the falling lines of her sorrow too well. She coos, 'Oh, Sej… come on, babe.' Slipping her bag to the floor, she kneels to catch my gaze. 'You don't even want to see_ me _?' She toys with her blouse. 'I'm wearing your favourite.'_

 _Her efforts make me smile. '_ You're _my favourite.'_

_'Aw…' she touches my knee. 'Does that mean you'll show me… your sexy little secret?' I hear desperation behind her sweet nothings. 'Please…?'_

_I know I'm being silly. We've seen each other at our worst, in petulance and sickness. I've watched her pluck hair from parts of her body that I'm forbidden to say. Closing my flawed eyes in shame, I finger the wires of cold, ugly metal. The worst part is where the pads tickle my nose. Apparently, my nerves will ignore the pressure, given time. Before that horrible change occurs, I perform stupid rituals, blinking over the basin, rubbing my sockets until my knuckles bleed, in case the wing of a dead fly comes loose or my stiff lenses grow pliant._

_Viewing Ashe up close, with new clarity, might be a tender mercy but I'd rather she didn't see me like this, however kindly she brushes my fringe. 'You're so gorgeous.'_

_'I think_ you _need glasses.' Capturing her pretty hand, I kiss her engagement ring. 'It's not fair. You deserve a strong woman to look out for you, and I'm falling apart.'_

_'You're not falling apart.' Ashe hugs me. 'You're still my tough, reliable Sej and you can do all the same difficult jobs. Only now you can accessorise!'_

_'Me?' I laugh. 'The dyke with twenty pairs of black socks?' It was Ashe who chose the frames, giddily poring over the catalogue. I still hope to use contacts but I've had painful reactions to every type. We still don't know if the solution or material is causing it._

_'Well…' Ashe fiddles with my collar. '_ I _can accessorise.'_

_'Your living doll.' She pauses, uncertain whether my comment was a gesture of devotion or disquiet. 'I know you love me but... you can drive, and you earn as much money as I do without having to pull shifts.' Happy memories of Ashe's wild youth cause me to chuckle. 'I'm proud, you know? I remember when you couldn't even boil a kettle without starting a fire.'_

_'That was my landlord's fault! You said!'_

_'I know, kitten, but the point is, you only need me to play house, and I hardly brighten the place up.'_

_'Well, if you stopped wearing black and…'_

_'Wore nothing?' One of Ashe's little kinks involves me "surprising" her with nudity. One example is answering the door, wearing nothing but a tool-belt, like I'm a stranger trying to plumb her sink without "getting my kit wet". I'm terrible at role-playing, and she's not much better at scripting. 'I'd make your guests even more uncomfortable.'_

_'_ Our _guests. My friends do like you, believe it or not.'_

_'Well, of course they do, showing off their "tolerance". I prefer the cavemen I work with.'_

_'Is that Udyr still going on about "carpet-burn"?'_

_'Yeah, and it makes as much sense now as it did then.' I'm grateful the mood's lightened. Ever since we were children, Ashe bore a strange weightless quality that raised me above my dull, dreary council estate of grey skies and woodchip. She really was my first love. I can even trace my sexual development all the way back to her prepubescent reflex of playing with her nipples. It embarrassed her parents, and mine, when I defended her actions with unsightly passion. 'You know, I've been planning this talk for days and you blow me off course immediately.' She goes blank with terror. 'Don't worry. I'm not breaking off our engagement or becoming a man.'_

_Ashe falls in to my lap and fiercely presses my hand above her heart. 'I would stay with you!' she blurts._

_'Ashe…'_

_'I always thought you'd be happier as a man! If you ever transitioned, I would help you every step of the way.'_

_My whole being flutters. I think I'd been waiting my whole life to hear someone say that. Hearing it from a lover is overwhelming. 'Even if you had to give up my...?'_

_She grins. 'Yep, every morning, I'd bind your breasts, do up your tie and suck your cock.'_

_'Since when have I worn a tie?' Kissing her greedy lips, I fearfully picture the tooth marks adorning her toys. I'm not sure if I'd trust her with the real thing. 'No, sorry to disappoint you but I've crossed that bridge a few times and… I'm okay.' She hops onto the mattress to give me space. 'Perhaps I'll never truly settle but who does?'_

_'The cosmetics industry would vanish into thin air.' She mimes the disappearance like a stage performer. 'Gyms would shut down.'_

_I scowl. 'Please, I have to rescue enough cyclists and fell-runners who don't respect nature. Lock them all up in a big, sweaty box where they can't bother me.' Collapsing over my knees, I breathe the liberation of disclosure. 'We all change, not always for the good. It's nice to know that you'd follow me down a rabbit hole or through a looking glass.'_

_'Call me old-fashioned but I wouldn't have proposed otherwise.'_

_'I'm a lucky girl.' I play with my bracelet, or "manacle" as Ashe calls it, her lovingly hand-crafted substitute for a ring. I'm often jealous of myself, netting a "master jeweller". The college gave her the title in brochures, to her embarrassment. 'Funny thing is… my next words might sound ungrateful, considering your offer.'_

_'Take your time.'_

_'Thinking about our relationship, I've realised one very important thing. I'm not happy if I'm just a companion. I have to be useful. Most of our lives, I've been your fitter, provider, chauffeur, but you can do all of those jobs yourself… and better.'_

_'That's a bit of a stretch.'_

_'You have fewer points on your driver's licence, you earn more per hour, and last weekend you replaced a belt on the washing machine.'_

_Ashe counts off the replies on her fingers. 'You've driven twenty times as far, society undervalues your contribution, and you would have replaced the belt in half the time.'_

_'Even if I run faster, your path is now quicker, and I'm_ not _holding you back.' Sliding off the bed, I go down on bended knee. My valiant Ashe proposed like this, and I was ecstatic and ashamed. How could I be so remiss? The privilege of acceptance was rightly hers, not mine. 'Let me bear your children.'_

_Her jaw drops in disbelief. She covers her mouth as convulsions drive loud moans, like she's the one going into labour. 'No… S… Sej… you can't…' She's refusing me? 'You can't…'_

_'Ashe?'_

_'You can't make me this happy when you'll be stuck at home feeling miserable. I want us both...'_

_'There's no third way! No magic bullet… and I refuse to waste my life pleasing myself when I could raise your family!' Clutching her wrist, I lay kisses between words. 'Even if I did struggle, you'd be there for me as you are now… putting up with your sulky bear… that lumbering oaf who snarls at your friends, goes to sleep on dates, whines about having to wear glasses… and only puts out when you beg.'_

_She cracks a broad smile, her teeth bright within her glowing skin. 'Of course! All of those things are what make you charming.' she dabs at her running mascara. 'Well… apart from that last one… sometimes.'_

_I know she likes a challenge, even if she does gripe. 'Anyone else would have kicked me out of bed.'_

_'Or strapped you to it.'_

_'You're the only person who'd dare!' We both laugh. I gaze up at her in adoration. 'I think you're the strongest woman I've met. You lost everything… your gold medal, your marriage…' Ashe's Olympic ambition quickly sunk her first relationship. Her sacrifice was all for naught when a chronic injury permanently damaged her right arm. 'I guess you even lost your parents.'_

_Our jubilation cools. Any sons or daughters I bear might never be grandchildren. Both my parents were alcoholics. Mum died after a meal of cheap wine and ibuprofen. A year later, Dad started getting the shakes. He crashed a rickety VNA forklift and fell to his death. I was mercifully raised by my Dad's feckless older sister, who was grateful to have some direction. Auntie Seryl, many would agree, was hardly a saint, but as close to one as her potential and circumstance allowed. She died of cancer three years ago. Six months before her death, she finally married a simple, decent man. We stay in touch._

_Ashe's parents never accepted our relationship or her divorce. They'd restructured, and lost, a family business to finance her wedding. She hadn't asked for their money but refusing their involvement was impossible. Shacking up with me was the final straw. They weren't really bigots, merely furious that Ashe had been "lying" to them while they bankrupted themselves. They couldn't get their head around the fact that I knew my preferences from childhood, while Ashe didn't._

_We've come through a lot. I'm guessing our shared resilience played a large part in keeping us together. Lifting her chin, I tell her, 'But you survived, and look at you now, successful and responsible, helping a new generation of kids find a place in the world… a place that isn't halfway up a mountain, stoned off their tits.'_

_'I've only got where I am because you gave up everything to support me.'_

_'And nothing has made me happier.'_

_She bursts into tears._

_We spend a while simply hugging and kissing, affirming our bond. As expected, Ashe's hand roams under my boxer shorts. Even when I'm tired, or just want to be held, she pushes her luck. I think I'd miss her attention if it ceased. We then lie back while Ashe rests her cheek on my bosom and strokes my waist. 'I can't imagine you being pregnant.'_

_'Neither can I… it… scares me. All those changes wrecking my body, slowing me down… but I don't want to reach the menopause and feel that I've run away from a good fight.'_

_'Heh… that sounds like you.'_

_'Thanks. I really dread all those arrogant looks about me "reverting"… you know, the "mannish" lesbian surrendering to her natural urges… or accusations that I've cheerfully taken advantage of some guy so I can sit on my arse and claim benefits.'_

_'I lived off you for long enough,' she grumbles._

_'That wasn't a dig.' I tousle Ashe's hair. 'You present as a middle class femme, it's… I don't want to say it's different but you won't get accused of hypocrisy by certain people.'_

_'Are you worried about what they'll say at work?' I detect a thrilling undercurrent of righteous anger, like she's preparing for battle on my behalf._

_'Oh no, we have some very long conversations when it's dead. Everybody knows I want kids. If anything, they'll moan about who gets the overtime.' Usually, those arguments are a major source of contention but, in Ashe's embrace, disagreements feel very small. 'The hardest part would be renting a truck big enough to hold all the presents from Voli. He spends half his pay packet on his nephews and nieces.'_

_'If that's how he's going to be, you_ must _invite him round. You've hidden him long enough.'_

_'I'm not hiding him. Our days off clash.' Also, fraternising with colleagues isn't really part of our culture. Maybe it's an "old male" thing? I'm the youngest in our lodge by nearly ten years. Volunteers, guides and educators are two a penny but full time operatives are few because the wages and recognition are relatively poor. We are a charity so means are limited. Voli and I may be lifers but most of us are burnouts and misfits from other emergency services. Udyr was a fireman who was kicked out for disruption. Olaf was a first responder for the paramedics before he wrote off too many vehicles. Why we let him fly a helicopter is anyone's guess. 'We'll have to visit him. Our flat's a bit cramped and I wasn't joking about his size. Our bosses only took him on because he looked good in photographs and was mad enough to buy all his own equipment. He likes his job far too much.'_

_'I love hearing about your colleagues. They sound a lot friendlier than mine.' We get on because we don't have to be friends but, yes, politics aren't a concern. 'I get stupid comments about my straight history, not so much from other teachers, mainly facilities and administration. Having Tryn join has been a double-edged sword. Our rapport sparks rumours but he won't let anyone use our past against me. Should anyone accuse him of holding a torch for his ex-wife, he says he'd rather bang my new fiancée.'_

_The horror, the horror. '_ That's _why he creeps about me?'_

_'Pretty much.'_

_'If he asks to be the donor, I'll crash his workshop and build him into a wall.' However distasteful, I had weighed the pros and cons of getting knocked up the old-fashioned way. Ninety seconds of poking sounds more honest and endurable than hours of mucking about with surgical equipment. However, there's a legal minefield if you bypass the system and I've got a poor head for such things. Also, if it gets me out of sex with Tryndamere, the doctors can use all the machines in front of all the students they want._

_'Aw… you'll break his heart.'_

_'I'll break more than his damn heart if he comes near me.' Ashe bursts out laughing. 'I'm serious!'_

_'You sound like a bloke ranting about his gay colleague.'_

_'I'm not scared!' An awkward silence follows my outburst._

_Ashe reads a lot of yaoi, which I can happily endorse if it means I can sleep once in a while. Apparently, the first inkling of her attraction to me was a teenage fantasy that I was a lithe boy pleasuring adult men. I was uncomfortable with that image, and she's never been terribly considerate of my limits. One of our worst arguments erupted from her condescending use of the term "gold star" when I tried to shut down the conversation. As a youth, I had to fight for this identity or lose my sanity while straight-acting Ashe could simply get on._

_Of course, we made up with lots of kissing and I-love-yous. That weekend, I received a classy men's overcoat as an apology. To show my acceptance, I bought Ashe a Merchant Ivory film, starring a young Rupert Graves, and went down on her while it was playing. She said the film was hot and a bit soppy, just like me._

_To be fair, Rupert_ was _very pretty, like a member of an eighties new wave group. I never would have guessed from that migraine-causing_ Sherlock _noise that Ashe loves. I prefer_ Columbo _._

_The tension disperses while I number the crime shows I watched with Auntie Seryl. A pity, she's not alive to see my children. Ashe pecks me on the cheek. 'Sorry, that was bad of me, pushing your buttons. I know you're feeling embattled.'_

_'Yeah…'_

_'Look.' Her palm bounces off the mattress. 'You've made all my dreams come true, so, it's only fair that I do the same. If there's anything you want to eat or drink, any films you want to put on... if you want me out of your hair for the night, so you can process everything...'_

_'Thanks but I've spent enough time alone with my thoughts.'_

_'I was hoping you'd say that.' She lifts her leg, wriggling her toes while her skirt shrinks past her garters. 'If there's anything you want me to wear… or_ not _wear… then…' We're definitely having sex tonight. How to make it special is the question. I have one selfish urge that I'm suppressing with all my heart. Ashe's offer keeps repeating as I stare into the distance. While I chew my lip, she jauntily straddles my waist and leans to one side. 'What are you looking at, hey?' She follows my gaze. 'The toy drawer?'_

_'Yeah…'_

_'That's not like you.' She tweaks my nose. 'Forget about me. I want to treat you for once.' When I don't respond, she pouts. 'You never tell me what you like in bed.'_

_'I like_ you _.' That's no lie. Maybe it's a failure of imagination but I'm happy to be with Ashe. Everything else can follow._

 _'There's got to be_ something _or you wouldn't have gone quiet.' She giggles. 'Do you want me to get you pregnant with the strap-on? Is that it?' Every muscle clenches in fear as I push my face into the duvet. She gasps. 'Oh… oh my… that is what you want.' I can hardly breathe, let alone talk. 'Sej? Oh, Sej, I shouldn't have laughed. I'm so sorry.'_

_'No, it's all right… I'm… pathetic… really. How could you take me seriously if…'_

_'Oh Sejuani.' She takes both my hands. 'My poor Sejuani.' Her pity feels like an epitaph. 'How could I be so careless? You were never worried about our relationship ending if you were a man. You're scared of becoming a woman.'_

_'I_ am _a woman.'_

_'But in your head, you're… something else, aren't you? Maybe not a gender but a role… a tower of strength… and you don't want to crumble in front of me because I won't love you anymore.'_

_'You think I don't trust you?'_

_'No, it's fine! We all get insecure. So many times, I've caught wrinkles, gone up dress sizes and wept in front of the mirror because you'll dump me for a younger model.' That's unacceptable, I have to be more attentive. 'I know full well you don't care but it doesn't stop me worrying… same as you.'_

_'But you can channel your fear into positive action. You can lose weight. You can buy clothes and make-up. Once I've lost my pride, it's gone forever. I can't erase your memory. How can I be your strong fantasy when you've… seen…' her graceful, kingly Sejuani, bending and writhing like a submissive page boy, the magnificent Ares worshipping as Ganymede?_

_Ashe descends and removes all defiance with long, sensual kisses. 'Perhaps I don't want a fantasy… perhaps I want you.'_

_Swallowing, I feel myself, dragged over the precipice. 'You can have good intentions and say the right words… but… your feelings…'_

_'Are eternal.' She takes the first irrevocable step and lays me prone. I feel her warm weight on my hips, back and shoulders. I shiver when her lips touch my neck. 'You are my wonderful… beautiful… desirable Sejuani… and tonight…' she whispers, 'I will make you my woman.'_

* * *

_I'm no stranger to penetration. Fingers, toys and improvised objects have been part of my repertoire since I began masturbating. However, I'd never been properly fucked until now, given up my sheath to someone else's gratification. It's… hitting the spot. I'm not really getting off but I can feel those muscles involved in orgasm triggering, even if pleasure's not firing them. It's emotionally very satisfying. I've always preferred a vigorous run to the buzz of sugary food, and anything worth doing leaves me sore. I'm grunting and flexing as if I'm setting a new personal best. Shockwaves build up, forcing air from my lungs. Raising my head, arching my spine, I feel elbow joints lock out underneath my stony biceps._

_I may be on all-fours but I'm not taking this lying down._

_Ashe did everything right. She went down with intense hunger to prepare me. Her frenzied cunnilingus felt like a wild act of selfish desire, not an obligation. I bit the duvet cover so hard, a button came loose, while my boxer shorts hung off my thighs, making me feel exposed. After peeling off our clothes, Ashe then sat across my bottom, sustaining our connection while she fumbled with the harness. The three straps needed a fair bit of adjustment as her lower body's far more slender than mine. She used a generous amount of lubricant and entered slowly. When I moaned in a secret voice, hidden from both the world and myself, a gun sounded. Ashe rode my hips as though finally free to pursue the one goal she'd always craved._

_I growl with blissful acquiescence to her powerful rhythm. This is exactly what I need. If she commits wholly to her pleasure then I can focus inwards. I grow buoyant as the tender soul of that young girl I once knew, that rising sun. With her gorgeous hands around the bars of her expensive pushbike, she changed me forever, quantising all my life to her inexorable dusk and dawn._

_A three-fold mirror decorates the wall before me. Within its compound eyes, one face looks back. Our dream-world is porous now, fraying at the hem. I look through the divide and meet the gaze of Sejuani. Her skin is flush with ecstasy while Ashe fucks her to completion._

_Across the void, Sejuani speaks. 'You were right all along.'_

_'How… so…?'_

_'Nothing… uh… can take away from you,' she manages between gasps. 'Even your identity now… wide hips raised in fertile invitation, praying for someone to master you, fulfil you... plant love inside where it may grow, unbidden... all of this takes away_ nothing _!' A sudden flare causes my whole abdomen to clench… and release… I exhale, surprised I was holding my breath, yearning for something more. 'You can feel it, yes? The tickle that you wrap within your mind and squeeze?'_

_'I can.'_

_'Focus… before we're too raw to come. Rock against her like a wild mare and_ own _us.'_

_Reaching blind, I pin Ashe's hand where she clutches my flank. With loud, animal strength, I buck into her, grinding against the base of her strap-on to involve my clitoris and hasten my feelings to critical mass. The damn breaks and anxious nerves go blissfully quiet as I sail on gentle waves of euphoria. My twitching walls grip Ashe's love as the pulses come slowly to an end. She collapses over me, clearly spent. Her arms encircle my trunk, underneath my breasts, while her cheek nestles between my shoulder blades. The corner of her lip grazes the little hairs on my skin._

_Sejuani speaks over Ashe's murmured happiness. 'Feel your might, how your powerful back supports her weight, how your arms do not bend. You are strong, no matter what role you play. This beautiful new aspect will never diminish you, because_ nothing _will diminish you. We are thousands, and we can only_ add _to your glory.'_

_'Glory?' That's a strange word in this context._

_'Yes… you are the only place where Ashe can find a purpose for her sharp claws. Bare your empty soul to her. That cursed hollow is the glove that will finally keep her from gouging herself. That is greater glory than simple conquest.' With that final thought, Sejuani dives into my psychic sea of milk, and I am left with Ashe and our silent reflections._

_As my view begins to fade, Ashe holds me tight. 'Oh… Sej, you were wonderful… I… oh, I can't remember the last time I felt this close to you. Thank you so much for sharing this.'_

_'You did all the hard work. I should… return the favour before…'_

_She laughs. 'Did you not notice? I came before you did!'_

_'I… may have been distracted.'_

_She nuzzles me. 'Good answer.' The strap-on slides back and forth at a relaxed pace. 'Hmm, I never knew this harness drove back. You don't give much away, spoilsport.'_

_'Huh? It's not supposed to. There are bumps where the joins are but… it may have been loose, and you do have a big…'_

_'Oi!' She taps my bottom. 'What have I told you about mentioning that?'_

_'I know but… why can't I be happy with my fiancée's body?' She begins to sob. 'What's wrong?'_

_'You know that I'm_ _happy… with you being anything… anything at all? You can be a tough, reliable husband, a radiant mother and a slutty, submissive fuck-toy. You can be all these things at once… and I will always love and respect you.'_

_The mirrors engulf the room. 'Ashe… thank you.'_

_Spiralling reflections become infinite. As light smears, I know my path. I had striven to become that one person who would accept Ashe's prowess… when I should have accepted_ her _._


	7. Chapter 7

Reality dawns.

Ashe, cross-legged by a meagre fire, watches me sadly. She has put on some of her clothes, marks of her reclaimed humanity. Just her bra covers her torso, keeping her wound exposed in case it opens without her knowledge. I roll beneath my fur and look up through rheum-heavy eyes, like a wife urging a restless partner back to bed. 'How are you feeling?'

'I…' she wavers, like her ears are playing tricks. 'After all that's happened, you're worried about _me_?'

'You tried to kill yourself.'

'No! That was just…' she cowers. 'I… I was being selfish. I drew attention away from you because…'

'You went beyond a single thrust, Ashe. That wasn't a cry for help.'

'I wasn't going all the way, I think… it's all a blur. Everything's a blur.'

'Wake me up next time. I don't want you sitting alone with your guilt.'

'I had this fire for companionship, and I won't hurt myself anymore. However bad I feel, I was wrong to decide my punishment.'

'I think we both were.' Knowing how precious our agreement is, we share hopeful glances. 'Do you want the lights back on?'

'Yes, I'd love to see your magic.'

I rise on all-fours and totter precariously, my balance disturbed with asymmetrical pain. One leg aches with pierced muscle, while the other glows with the heat of my sprain. 'Ugh, could you help me walk? I'd rather depend on you than crawl through the dirt.'

Her smile touches her eyes. 'Of course.' Almost leaping with joy, she drapes my arm across her broad shoulders.

Gazing over the waterfall of her platinum hair, the colour of sea-spray, I feel tall for the first time in years, and kiss her on the cheek. 'Thank you.'

She looks up in amazement. 'Is this real?'

I turn her jaw and claim her lips, both of us revelling in my new power. 'Yes.'

Once I've put the stars back in our sky, she places her hand over mine where I touch the rock. 'I still can't believe you're a mage. It's like we share this beautiful secret.' She laughs. 'I'm being silly. Volibear must know, right?'

'He's been through my dreams. There are few things he doesn't.'

'I'm jealous. I want a secret of my own.'

'You'll get your chance, I'm sure.' Heading back, we sit down with the fire between us, giving each other the space to be lucid. I'm still naked from the waist up, so, grabbing a blanket, I cover myself to keep Ashe's eyes on my face. We can't simply resolve our problems with attraction. I have to banish one fear before it consumes her. 'Listen, Ashe, I could have fought back.'

'And you could have said "yes" but a refusal wouldn't have stopped me. For all the responsibility you place on victims, _I_ threw us into the depths. You didn't pull us down.'

'I could have left, when you gave me fair warning.'

'You'd have limped across the Freljord on your sprain?'

What's a twisted ankle to rising from the dead? 'I've endured worse.'

'You have _now_. Perhaps you would have been safer, crawling through the wilderness.'

'I made my choice. How rash must I be to deserve my punishment?'

'A punishment fits the crime! At worst, you deserve a quick, honourable death but I _humiliated_ you, stripped away your clothes, your dignity, your sense of self. I watched it all go… then you told me you might never come back!' She pleads with her hands. 'With all the brutality you've witnessed, at home and at war, could you honestly say that anyone _tortured_ you so much?'

'I…' There's no way out of this. 'I can't remember the pain of birth. Now I have some idea of what it was like.' I was told my screams were endless, and that my parents abandoned me as a weakling. A full ten days later, someone found me in a drift, silent and alive. I was a miracle they couldn't ignore.

She protests. 'Your birth was necessary. What happened was…'

'A little death… and I have to begin again somehow.'

'I understand. From the bottom of my heart, I'm sorry for the pain I've caused. I'm sorry for making you cry. There's no reason to feel ashamed.'

'What is reason compared to force?' I look into the flames. They're shrinking now, like my world, my possibilities. 'I've been fettered in shame for so long, and I've searched high and low for an escape. I leave one cage for another… title… body… soul… but love? Love is the smallest cage of all. Within its low, narrow confines, you can only bow to one of two moral horizons… the shame of acknowledging your superior… or the shame of loving a weaker person. When you claimed your eight-score pounds of flesh, I don't know whether I surrendered or gave into paralysis and made no choice at all.'

'So that's why you urge my darkness… to justify your love?'

'I don't see it as darkness but… yes. It was a mistake. You can be whomever you wish, and your strength grows without my interference. I still think you'd achieve more with us but I doubt anything would suppress you for long.'

'Yes, and we're finding out the hard way.' She gives a brief, crooked smile. 'Are you calling a truce?'

'Even if I stepped aside, Volibear would take my place. Our conflict goes beyond us. You know that.'

'All too well.' Ashe toys with her bra. 'That's kind of what brought me here.'

'You've been silent about your reasons. Were you hoping I'd press you?'

'No, I was looking for some indication that you wouldn't merely approve. I needed more from you, Sejuani.'

'Without knowing what's happened, I can't make any promises.'

'Then could you at least respond as a person rather than a chieftain?'

As if that's an option following our trials. 'I can't just forget parts of myself.'

'Then I'll have to make do with your honesty.' She prepares for a long explanation by settling back onto her palms and frustrating any wish to cower. 'So… I'm guessing you knew about the Demacians?'

Udyr was all over that like a rash. 'You were making overtures?'

'Yes, with their help, I thought I could win through sheer numbers.'

'Hmm… they'd struggle with the climate. Your chances would be very good, yes, but Demacia's casualties would outnumber yours and be mourned for generations. Your descendants would pay back their loss tenfold. Is that what you want for your children?'

'I'd thought about all this. Debt can be managed like any other resource and I'd already tapped their self-interest. Old King Jarvan's apparently _very_ concerned with a hostile Freljord allying with Noxus.'

'Under _my_ leadership?' Ashe nods. 'You must be joking.' I have no time for Noxus. They're a pack of chancers playing at war, dolling themselves up in bones and blades while true fighters get on with it. Of course, their greatest warrior lives in exile.

'I may have… embellished one scenario.' She takes obvious pride in her guile. 'He sent his eldest son. Prince Jarvan was more sceptical but he loves to help the righteous, and his mage was keen to get her hands bloody, so the bait worked.'

I frown as I picture the Demacian vanguard. Other magic users make effective anchors for clairvoyance when our seers conjure distant lands from their cauldrons. One figure was particularly vivid. 'Am I thinking of the right woman?'

Ashe grins. 'You certainly are.'

'The prattling society girl with the dead eyes and painted smile who dresses like an overgrown fairy?'

'That's her, Luxanna. She's cold as ice and whip-smart.' Ashe grins and licks her teeth. 'You're into cruel, girly women. I think you'd _like_ her.'

'Hmph. I'll take your word about her charms but I prefer lovers with passion.'

'Oh my… you're giving me butterflies.' Her flirtatious manner doesn't last. She's too conscious of the harm she's done to be so much as gallant. 'Either way, she wasn't an issue. There was another woman.'

Frustratingly, the rest of the Demacian entourage was unclear, though two others made an impression, one with magic and one with inhuman presence. 'I can only recall a musician, who, I'm guessing, was another mage, and a half-dragon.'

Ashe becomes a furtive teenager, smug at hiding a partner from disapproving eyes, or plunder from a chieftain. 'You didn't see her. No one does.'

'A planewalker?'

'No, just a plain girl, awkward, forgettable… sweet.' Ashe offers an apologetic smile after the last word, as if regretting a slip of the tongue.

I know where she's going with this. Without conviction, I say, 'We lead separate lives. You don't have to remain celibate.'

'I can't do celibacy.' Her eyes follow the bare line of my sternum. 'To you, love is a cage. To me… love is a dancing flame beneath a lonely mountain path, enticing me down from a noble peak into warm darkness.' Her voice, loaded with desire, still paralyses me. Her forceful need and my ready submission will not forever dissolve in a single savage night. 'After welcoming Jarvan, I couldn't sleep… thanks to _you_ … so I crawled off to the shooting range to drown my sorrows in archery. That's where I saw Quinn.'

Ashe gnaws on her lip, as though pondering how to continue. My heart sinks with realisation. 'You didn't simply drag her to your bed. You got _involved_.' Ashe doesn't reply. 'Tell me. You can't change what's done. I can look after myself.'

'Haven't we established that you _can't_?'

How do I leave such openings? I guess I've always been a scrapper, not a duellist. 'Yes, but I'm still here.'

'Only because you don't have a choice.'

I'm growing impatient. 'Are you stalling? If you don't want to tell me then hold your tongue. Don't use me as an excuse.'

Ashe looks hurt. 'You're my _priority_ , not an excuse.'

My wrath breaks upon her declaration. 'I… I know. Just don't insist on my weakness. I get it. You think my pride will deter me from speaking up. Unfortunately, it's hard for you to second guess without scoring points.'

'Yes, and we both lose patience.' Ideas form and separate while she drums her fingers. 'Do you have nothing I can work with?'

'I confess that hearing about an emotional affair will… unsettle me but I was honest about liking passionate women. I'd happily risk a few burns to know your fire.'

'But you always have to push and risk everything. I don't want a repeat of earlier.'

'That won't happen.' A tooth can only be pulled once. 'But I can set limits if it would help.'

'Yes, definitely!' She's overjoyed. I'm sharing my fears, a true gesture of intimacy.

'While mountains lie between us, I can bear you making love to someone else… but if you start a family then I will become your endless nightmare.'

She gawps in terror. 'Sejuani, I… have to provide an heir!'

'Then you will have to kill me, or neither of us will ever know peace.'

Her eyes widen. 'But I…' she slumps. 'I'd be really happy for you if…'

'No, Ashe, there's no reciprocation. I can't explain my feelings. They just… are.'

'That's… wow, I'm not sure how to… should I be scared, flattered?' I've no suggestions. 'You're very much playing the part of the barbarian warmonger if that's any comfort.'

'I doubt anything would soothe my pain if that scenario came to be.'

'Well, I'm glad you mentioned it.' Ashe toys with her split ends. 'I planned on having a child, sooner rather than later.'

'Do as you will. I've said what I must. We should… move on.'

Ashe nods. Her mouth twitches in a wounded smile. With dry humour she says, 'I believe my regrettable affair should make a nice diversion.'

'You said her name was Quinn?'

'She was barely an adult… physically nineteen but… younger, really.' Her tension thaws, even as her blush deepens. I realise that Ashe doesn't relax often, at least with me. 'Quinn lived a normal, wretched life, born to a farmer, lost her brother, joined up as a ranger… then she pursued a Noxian agent, and found herself in Prince Jarvan's entourage. Her best friend was a giant eagle, which tells you everything about her people skills. I guess Jarvan was doing a shy girl a favour by letting her keep watch.'

'Oh, I get it, a commoner for him to wheel out or hide when it suits him. She could earn _true_ respect if she joined us.'

'I'd pass on your invitation but she's… loyal to her country.' Those four words are laden with regret.

'She's a Demacian with all the privileges of rank. I doubt she'll rise above any time soon.'

'You don't have the means to pass judgement!' Ashe replies with alarming fervour. 'She has depths that are still blooming. I hope Runeterra sees them one day.'

'Perhaps… I wouldn't hold your breath.'

'Sejuani, could you give it a rest? I thought you were good with this.'

'I am but you're investing a lot in someone who could only disappoint you.'

She waggles her eyebrows at me. ' _Really_ , now?'

I flinch. 'Life as a Winter's Claw chieftain _is_ falling short, every day that you throw a less than ideal punch or fail to crush your enemies. I may let you down but I promise to do so honestly, which is more than you'll get from any Demacian.'

'I'm Avarosan. How many times have I beaten _your_ expectations?'

'Plenty.' Questioning her bloodline reeks of desperation. I concede. 'Fine, you've made your point. I'm doubtful her spark will survive her circumstance but something must have drawn your gaze if she were plain as you describe.'

'It was her loneliness. Our love is a taboo subject in Demacia. Quinn had obviously given up on adulthood, remaining a girl rather than half a woman.' Ashe covers her face with both hands. 'I was crazy enough to believe that a scout wouldn't recognise a queen without finery, so I took a false name to seduce her, to share a little bit of comfort and acceptance.'

'Wait.' I join the dots. 'Are you telling me this… _whore_ led you on, _used_ you then ran to Jarvan with a blow-by-blow account of your dalliance? Please don't say that he refused your terms because of _that_!'

'I wasn't what I said I was. He couldn't fully trust…'

I'm shouting. This rot is the kind of low hypocrisy from which Ashe needs rescuing. 'Your choice of partner has nothing to do with him! It has no effect on your prowess in battle or the wealth at your command. If anything, he should feel honoured. You spurned your own fair maidens to foul your bed with his… token drudge.'

'I'm supposed to be monogamous! The Demacians are big on virtue and…'

'As skin deep as everyone else!' Why didn't one person at her court say the following? 'I know what your crime was. Jarvan had other plans for this girl, _personal_ ones, and you shattered them by revealing her taste!'

Ashe goes blank. 'Oh, sweet Avarosa, why didn't I think? Everything's in place… a fairy tale for the masses. Prince Jarvan weds an ordinary girl, becomes a man of the people. He loses no face with the gentry because all he has to do is knight a proven hero.' She begins to panic. 'If she can't fulfil her purpose then… dear Quinn, what have I done?'

' _She_ betrayed _you_!'

'For the sake of a woman's touch before she died!' She's actually crying over this traitorous waif. 'I might have been her only chance! How could she refuse me? How could a loyal solider hide intelligence from her liege? I backed her into a corner. She was a girl, remember? Only a girl…'

'You were fifteen when you took charge!'

'I was fully grown by then. She wasn't.'

I feel a whirlwind of conflicting emotions. I'm pleased with Ashe's carnal defiance of her gilded cage, humbled as I could never solely quench her thirst, envious that others know her body and soul… but most of all, I'm _angry_ that some callow bitch repaid Ashe's generosity with betrayal then retained victimhood. 'If she's old enough to plunge a knife into your back, she's old enough to be responsible. I swear, if I catch her, she'll get a hiding that she'll remember for the rest of her short life!'

Ashe takes my hand. 'Sej?' Her cool touch lessens my storm to a drop of water on a calm lake. 'I'm glad you care but a frightened young woman is not responsible for all my troubles… even if she _does_ make you jealous?' I blow out my cheeks in dismissal. 'Quinn led me on but, in her position, I'd have done exactly the same thing. She's already been punished, at her request. You don't have to do anything. Her blood is… on my hands.' With unexpected violence, Ashe clutches my shoulder tight enough to leave a mark. 'I… I'm sorry, I need a hug.' Receiving her to my bosom, I draw the fur across. 'Thank you.' Her lashes are wet as they brush my skin. 'So much pain. I could have stopped it all by not existing. You'd have your identity… my people would have Demacian allies. You could fall as an icon, or live in harmony with us. Either way, you'd be happy… rather than...' she trails off.

Generally speaking, I'd shorten "live in harmony" to "fester" but Ashe's vulnerability stows my tongue. 'I can't imagine Tryndamere brokering a deal by himself.'

'You'd be surprised.' Ashe can form sentences without angst if Tryndamere's the subject. He's of little consequence. 'However rustic, his charms, he can parley with the best of them.'

Sadly, for the world, he's always had a nose and a mouth. It's more his lack of direction that I fault. 'Would he show initiative, set things in motion, without your prodding?'

'Eh… now that he's got experience, I think he would. At least, Anivia would keep him focused.'

'Anivia helps run your tribe?' It's old news that she backed Ashe's reign but I didn't think Anivia strayed from her lair to play an active part in government. I'll have to keep this in mind.

'She tries, bless her.'

'Do cryophoenixes have political ambitions?'

'I doubt it. She's just a busybody.'

'Without any challenges to your power, I'm guessing your exile is voluntary.'

'That's right. Only Tryndamere knows the full story, but others were close enough to draw conclusions. I don't envy his job, explaining what happened with as little commotion as possible, though he makes any damage seem trivial.' You lose your clan, you gain perspective. 'He did recommend I get a concubine so I don't eye up foreign agents.'

'Why stop at one? You clearly have the resources and appetite for more.'

' _Please_ don't back him up!' She pats my belly in reproach. 'He knows I'm obsessed with you, by the way. He worked that one out for himself.'

'Really?' Ashe nods. Her cheekbone skirts my nipple. 'Do you keep a diary?'

'Not exactly, my journals of erotica dwell behind three locks. He's just observant and willing to bend logic when it suits him. Everyone dismisses Tryndamere. They respect _me_ far too much.' Ashe disentangles our clinch and I see her face, bare, spent and open. Blotches of raw skin map out a landscape of lines, pores and bruises. Her forehead is etched with concern. Often, I'm so deep under the spell of her divine bearing, I forget she's older than me, with all the scars of age and stress. 'I came here to give my people a taste of independence, make them realise how valuable they are without their false idol. Meanwhile, I could rediscover this country, learn how to serve it as just another broken woman.'

'You're… teaching them self-reliance?'

'I thought you'd approve.' Ashe chuckles. 'We're not a lost cause.'

I wonder if she has an answer to the question plaguing us both. 'How do you lead a country as… half a person?'

'I…' She looks around the cave, as if the walls might contain a hidden truth. 'I don't know, Sej. Without help, it seems impossible, and help is fleeting and imperfect. Solitude revealed so much when I was a girl but, when I came here, the silence grew deafening. I couldn't think any more… well, not constructively. Staring into space, pulling out my hair, bathing obsessively, not bathing at all… I wasted so much time feeling anxious, trapped and miserable.'

'You should have left.'

'I couldn't.' She brushes my fringe and smiles unhappily. 'We both know why… the darkness, that awful paralysis, when you couldn't save yourself.'

'Helplessness.'

'You understand.' She touches my lips. 'I thought you would. It was in your kiss.' Her arm drops and she looks away before she loses control. 'The message I fired was a distress call. My people don't know I'm here. No Volibear will come for me.'

'That's…'

'Dangerous? Irresponsible? Yes… I've been here thirty-three days. The mask has already begun to slip.' Her voice cracks with shame. 'As you know.'

Lifting her chin, I draw her gaze back. 'Let it fall. I accept who you are.'

We meet. Ashe's mouth swallows mine, softly consuming all my disparate selves with loving hunger, while I happily surrender them to her need. As my scorned, sensitive body cries for validation, I find myself opening up in subtle ways, pushing out my chest, exposing my throat. Ashe breaks off, and I regain my composure. We must find a safe path before we stumble into the dangerous morass of our sexual identities. 'Thank you,' she says. 'I may not like the parts of me that you do but I should express my gratitude.'

'I won't insist on your corroboration if you're too sore.'

'That would help.' She pats my leg. 'I know you mean well but… you can seem like you're disregarding my feelings.'

'I'm just angry they cause you needless pain.'

'I get it. You don't have to be defensive, just… maybe let these things run their course rather than stomping everything out.'

Her complaint is familiar. Volibear's well-meaning interference can be frustrating when I'd sooner be left alone. 'I'll try. Stomping things out is what I do best.'

Ashe groans, rolling her eyes in fond irritation. 'I'll regret saying this but… it's part of your charm.' She pauses. 'Having said that, you've been _really_ quiet, ever since we fought Lissandra.'

'You're objecting? I have resources to manage as well.'

'And I have big charts of your activity from year to year, so I can see discrepancies.' I knew my excuses wouldn't fly, not when it happened in front of her. 'When Lissandra sprung her trap, I… felt you die.'

'Yes.'

Her arms leap, as if protecting her from a lethal strike. 'What happened?'

I'm potentially costing us the war. She'll know how vulnerable we truly are. 'Kalista.'

'The Spear of Vengeance?' Ashe knows my fate already. This is her staggering the blow, as if hearing it in little pieces will dampen its impact.

'Yes, I gave her my soul for this… half-life. She took away my future, my vision of a world to be, my dreams. I go to sleep in darkness, wake up in darkness. My leadership is a joke. Volibear maintains a pitiful charade, when he should have killed me.'

Knocking the wind out of my lungs, Ashe engulfs me, sending us both to the ground. She begs between loud sobs and a hailstorm of kisses. 'No! You can't vanish into her swarm! I… I thought… if I couldn't spend my life here, learning to be with you… I could soar through the heavens until I found your star! Please don't go… forever… please don't…' Her cries dissolve into wordless bawling. Who can speak at their own funeral? I can't say anything to console her. 'Why… how could you do this to me?'

Her selfish demand reassures me. 'I had to save the future.'

'No!' She pounds weakly on my shoulder. 'You can't let me off! I know what happened! I was there! For once in your life, blame me!'

'I… I had to save you.'

She falls back and screams like an erupting volcano. While she vents her anguish, I quickly move all dangerous objects away from her, before they threaten her life a second time. Her intense purge ends in a spasm of coughing. She doubles-up, hacking and spluttering until she crushes her temples between her palms. 'Ugh, my head, I'm… going to be sick!' Racing through the dirt on all-fours, Ashe nearly careers into the stream. I support her while she vomits. When she's done, I rest her head in my lap and wipe her face. 'Why… why didn't you tell me?' There's broken glass in her crystal voice. 'I never would have… assaulted you if…'

'I'd rather you did that a thousand times than treated me like an invalid.'

'You… have… no… _soul_!' Ashe protests. 'And you lost it for my sake… you… stubborn, silly bitch. I'm… so mad at you right now.'

'Good.' She can take her frustration out on me, rather than herself.

I hum a plaintive melody from a song of the wilderness, the closest thing I know to a lullaby. She grows childlike as the circular pattern, without a crescendo, suggests open harmonies rather than predestination. Ashe looks up. 'Sejuani?'

'Yes?'

'You love me so much that you'd give up your soul?'

'I… guess I do.' The bare conclusion startles me. 'Close your eyes and think on that. Forget everything else.'

While Ashe half-dozes in my lap, I feel strong. Even if this body fails, I can emotionally bear her fury, her longing, her sadness. When I was praised for my feminine bounty as a girl, I saw it as a curse. When Ashe gorges upon it, I become taller than a mountain, broad as the horizon. Even when she pushes me down, _I_ beckon forth her desire.

Suddenly, her gaze, cold and bright, fixes on mine. I wet my lips at her steel when she declares, 'I'm going to save you.'

Once, I believed in possibility, while Ashe believed in high walls. Her new determination to push limits, rather than impose them, is a triumph. 'Kalista dwells beyond our plane. How could you reach her?'

'With the resources of a monarch, and a legendary being who passes between life and death.'

'Anivia?' While I'd love to be rid of that interfering old bird, I have to voice my concern before Ashe blunders into peril. 'Her magic and immortality are bound with the Freljord. If she leaves her element while Kalista remains in hers…'

'I know that. All I need is an open gate. _I_ can do the rest!'

Her passion is overwhelming and… romantic. Ashe means to cross over personally to fight an aspect of the cosmos. How can so great a warrior come from so weak a tribe? 'You can't risk…'

Ashe ignores me, the battle-rage consuming her thoughts. 'I am a predator, a monster!' she raises her clenched fist. 'I have denied it long enough, brought agony to those I love! Instead, I will harness my cruelty… and I will cut a bloody swathe across the afterlife until I've reclaimed your soul!' Ashe kisses me with possessive ardour. 'We _will_ be together. Should I fall to Kalista, we'll be valkyries, bringing justice to…'

'No,' I say, lifting an arm and softly breaking her grip.

'Wh… what?' Ashe gawps while she tries to recover her lost thread.

'You can't join Kalista. Vengeance would suit me… but you, the champion of mercy? You'd tear yourself apart.'

'All this time you've insisted…'

'You shouldn't compromise yourself.' I take her hands in mine. 'Don't become something you're not, especially for me.'

'You're impossible.' Ashe hugs me. Her long sigh of tender frustration kisses my neck. 'I'm glad you acknowledge my gentle side, once in a while, but you should take your own advice. You've sacrificed enough, and instead of paying you back, I took advantage.'

'You did nothing wrong. If you mean to further your cause, you _should_ take advantage when…'

' _Sej_ …'Ashe draws out my name in a kindly scold. I gasp when she playfully circles my breast. Lifting my head back in arousal, I meet her knowing grin. 'I understand. I _really_ do. My princess wants to keep her virtue while I have my wicked way with her. There's _nothing_ wrong with that. However, you can't experience the real thing without real pain.' I dare not answer. Rebuffing her suspicions would only make them worse. 'If earning your love means honouring your traditions then I will do my best… _once_ you're back at full strength.'

'There's no such thing as an equal fight. Should you wait for one, we'll end up where we started, rattling swords across the Freljord until we die from old age.' Ashe looks at me, pleading for a lifeline. 'However, I'll be patient if it means you won't harm yourself again.'

'I'm not looking for perfection, just something better than what happened. If you had seen your distress… all of your words won't convince me that was right.'

I show her my bracelet. 'Ignore them. As long as I'm wearing this, I will accept you, no matter how much I protest.'

Ashe reaches for the jewellery but every time her fingers draw close, they dart away. 'My… proposal gift, I couldn't bear to mention it and wake up. Is it…?' She gulps.

'Yes, it is real. Volibear conducted a ritual so we could explore my dreams. They were sapping my will to fight and we had to do _something_. When I stirred, your bracelet was on my wrist. Apparently, the storm leaves minor tokens of discord if you provide inspiration. I… couldn't bring myself to remove it.'

'Oh, it's like a ballad! Thank you for keeping it.' She gathers the courage to examine further. 'Sorry to say but I reckon it's every bit as cheap as the one "I" made. Six karat, fake as Avarosan wine.'

'So what? I'd have this over any meaningless bauble.' Why does jewellery have importance beyond ornamentation or sentiment?

'I'm a queen, and you deserve better than a peasant heirloom.'

'And you're missing the point.'

'I'm allowed to be critical of my own handiwork.' She frowns at the miniscule imperfections of her motif. 'Swear that you'll take it off when I go too far. Don't worry that you'll offend me.'

'Such a loaded gesture _will_ hurt you.'

'Not as much as the alternative. Maybe… I could have it when you're feeling sore? You could find shelter without having to… break off our engagement.' We fall silent, aware that we're treating an absurd fantasy like a real, historical fact. Anyone listening would think we were mad or children. I guess both groups are foolish and wise in profound ways. 'However, you should really find another badge of your consent.'

'I'll see what I can do.'

'Good.' She kisses my cheek. 'So Volibear _does_ know everything. Should I slap him?'

'What he's observed is punishment enough.' His concern for my well-being is a knife, plugging an artery. Poor Volibear can't remove the blade without ending himself.

'You are _blatantly_ his darling little girl and he values your trust. I'm sure he's grateful… really…' she pauses, like she's discovered a pattern. 'Sej?'

'What?'

'Are you scared of that bracelet?'

I'm taken by surprise. 'Eh… material evidence of your claim _was_ inconvenient. You can bury thoughts. I couldn't bury this without… you know.' She glows in approval. 'But I've gotten used to it. Why do you ask?'

'You're holding it at arm's length.'

I follow her gaze. 'Oh, that's just so I can… see…' Horror dawns. I _know_ I can perceive the details up close, even if it's a… bit harder to… focus… and… I've got a headache. With an angry bark, I slump in defeat. 'Of all the things to come true…'

Ashe consoles me with gentle strokes. 'You're longsighted, aren't you?'

'No, I… always found it easier to look into the distance. It was a good thing! A blessing!' I thump the ground. 'Ancestors, damn you! Which one of you dogs thrust your stupid cock into a blind whore? To think you'd poison our bloodline with…' Ashe pulls me tight and lays kisses upon every part of my head. When she reaches my neck, I feel her tears on my cheek. 'Ashe?'

'I'm sorry! This is horrible for you but…' she's beaming uncontrollably. 'I can't help it. I'm so glad!'

'Why?'

She kisses both my eyes then my lips. Our foreheads meet, and Ashe breathes her answer. 'Because… I finally have my secret.'


	8. Chapter 8

After all our drama, the rest of our stay was the calmest week I've known. While my legs healed, Ashe and I passed the time with simple talk, largely about our childhoods. We were both misfits in our ways, though I did a better job of conforming. While my girlhood was a poor match for my role, I could remain faithful to my personality and earn respect. Ashe hid everything. Her long walks through the wilderness and silent communion with her bow saddened me. When I put forth that her teenage boldness and sexuality would have been celebrated, were she born to my tribe, Ashe appeared wistful.

She voiced admiration for my peers' natural discretion, regarding my gender issues. I was compelled to explain effeminate men had a rough time, and I'd lost many quick minds, including my best quartermaster, to the Avarosan. When Ashe proposed a yearly swap-meet, I cheerfully announced my scheme to embed useful inverts amongst ursine. Hefty paws had a large demand for small, dextrous hands. I'm not losing any more talent.

Ashe waved off my refusal, threatening to bribe any dissidents with new houses. We laughed as equals.

Despite our unspoken promise… well, Ashe's really… to avoid sexual congress until debts were settled, we made love once. After all our stress, I never thought it could be something as earthbound as waking up to the rhythm of Ashe quietly masturbating. I saw her tense back, her shoulders flexing like the wings of a bird with each ragged exhalation. Through grace, or lust, I gingerly asked if she needed help. Ashe jumped in shock and I felt ashamed for intruding on a private moment. She nodded without eye contact. I curled up next to her, disclosing my relative inexperience and asking for direction. Apparently, she was unconcerned with speed or motion, wanting only to have my face close to hers while she found solace in my skin. I watched her expression as her nimble hands roamed. She grabbed with escalating passion until she pushed my britches down. When her fingers skirted my labia, she came. One brief touch was enough motivation to let Ashe continue. She lifted my top and kissed a line between abdominal muscles, pausing luxuriously at the folds below my navel. After peppering my thighs and running her nose through my pubic hair, she went down on me with a loud sigh of happiness. I thoroughly enjoyed the pleasure but it was nothing compared with knowing Ashe's desire. Finishing with the relative chore of my own orgasm, I basked in her satisfaction, weaving my hands through her locks while she rested on my belly.

Neither of us dared spoil the moment with angst or conflict. We didn't speak.

After falling asleep in each other's arms, I woke up on my front, echoing my pubescent drive to flatten my chest. Ashe's pecks on my buttocks revealed I was yet indecent. Arching my back, I looked over my shoulder at her unconvincing remorse and felt… alluring. Ashe playfully struck my bottom, kissed my lips and said, 'Thank you,' before giving me space to rise.

After our short voyage through calm domestic seas, we landed on Runeterra. The journey was locked away in our memories, preserved in amber for an impossible future.

My legs healed enough that any pain was merely bracing, a welcome reminder that I could exert myself again. While I marched in a figure-eight, Ashe joked that she had to leave before I used my greater mass to get revenge. I was energetic and pugnacious enough to consider it, and I suspected Ashe, from the siren song in her voice, would enjoy the reversal. However, performing dominance at anyone's beckon felt awkward and strangely disempowering. I had little time for those who threw themselves at my feet, in hope of a sexually charged beating. When you have my reputation, it's very much an occupational hazard.

I suppose, given my need, I should have more compassion, for my "victims" _and_ myself. However, that was a very distant shore and I'd only just found a raft. I didn't reply to Ashe's teasing.

* * *

I'm due to leave. My stay has been longer than expected. I'm unsure how many days have lapsed. Ashe drew scratches on the wall at regular intervals but I didn't recognise any of the glyphs. Maybe she's devised a new language to thwart intelligence gathering, or reclaimed an old Iceborn script from her travels. Her code warrants investigation. Udyr's curious and astute enough to have a go but I'd have to persuade him to do something other than harass enemy troops.

Ashe returns, plastered with sweat and shaking with adrenaline, as if she'd won a tense duel. She says between gasps. 'We've got company, trolls… I think they're loners, nothing to do with Trundle or Lissandra, but a large group. I saw nine crawling over the scree.'

'Did they see you?'

'Loose rocks gave me away but I'm coated with blubber so they won't smell anything human. If we're lucky, they'll break off their search and assume it was a gust of wind.' Her fingers twitch and flex while her eyes chase every shadow.

'Not if they see your footprints. We have to get out of here.'

She looks relieved. I guess flight was her preference but she doubted my stamina. ' _Please_ tell me that you can survive the journey back.'

I may panic at the thought of meeting others, knowing my perfect, inviolable front is just an illusion, but I've powered through to the stage where I'm overcompensating with grit. Right now, I could walk the length of Runeterra. 'No promises but I'm confident.'

'Okay,' she looks at her feet. 'Are you… ready to go now?'

Taking a moment, I commit these walls to the darkness within. Even if night lasts forever, the constellations of true ice will be my stars. 'Ready as I'll ever be. Let's go.'

She reaches out. 'I… I know it's a bit silly and childish but can I… hold your hand until we get outside?'

'Aren't you better off holding a weapon?'

'Can't _you_ be my weapon?' she says, fluttering her lashes.

'I feel more like your sheath.' Ashe looks undecided whether to laugh or sulk at my comment. 'I'm sorry. I'll be whatever you need.'

Her mouth cracks into a broad grin. Ashe doesn't smile fully that often. It's all knowing smirks and suggestive bites of her lip. 'I'll hold you to that… one day.' She takes my hand.

* * *

A path walked once grows quicker to the mind. Even so, the speed at which we surface alarms me. The sun blazes down with pale intensity. Blinking, I stumble about while a confident Ashe launches her spirit-hawk into the wilderness. Her eyes roll back and flicker. Volibear's crackle when performing similar feats. I don't know which is more disturbing.

Ashe frowns. 'Only six of them,' she says, three unaccounted for, 'but all their tracks go north. You should be fine if you strike out west for half a mile or so.'

'Got it.'

She wipes her nose. 'I… this might be the last time and… I don't know what to say.'

'We'll meet again. Even if Kalista's taken my future, that's the one thing I can believe in.'

'Yes, but… will I have the chance to do this?' Throwing her arms around my neck, she kisses me deep enough to fill my lungs. I clinch her waist as I play with the blonde hair spilling from her fallen hood. Ashe's weight is mine to bear. With a playful urge, I sweep her off her feet. She giggles. 'Ooh, this is nice.'

'Defeat us in battle and you can do whatever you want.' I lean down to kiss her again. 'If you're serious about uniting the Freljord, rather than ruling it, you have to accept our differences.'

'Then I'll grow strong enough to pick _you_ up and haul you back to my lair.'

Despite all the screaming of my conscience, I'm giddy with anticipation. 'It won't be easy but… I look forward to it.'

'I bet you do.' She looks pensive. 'Hmm… should I feel insecure that you'd lose interest if I lost?'

'I think you'll always have some hold over me, no matter what happens.'

'Good answer.' Before I try, and fail, to carry her off, I put Ashe down. 'So… this is goodbye then?'

'Yes… goodbye.' We drift apart. I'm walking backwards… then sideways while Ashe looks on. Before I turn for good, I feel a jolt of courage. If I am to lead my people then I must not fear anything. With a gale's roar, I say it first. 'I love you!'

She collapses to the ground like I'd struck her with my flail. On her knees, quaking with emotion, Ashe cries loudly, torn between holding her chest and wiping her tears. I'm stunned at our mutual vulnerability. Simple words can destroy us both. Even compared to my stewardship of the Winter's Claw, thousands of lives, this burden feels impossibly great. I think I understand her distress when she worries about her effect on other people.

Ashe climbs to her feet with reclaimed energy. She pounds her breastbone. 'I swear, mighty warrior-princess, I _will_ prove myself worthy!'

Recalling Volibear's maxim, "All that matters, to a hunter…" gives me an idea. Rolling up my sleeve, I snap off the bracelet. 'When you have...' I present my challenge. 'Offer me this.'

Ashe looks both terrified and exhilarated. 'Oh… oh, Sejuani, I'd love to but… I can't risk losing it.'

'You're risking _yourself_ , aren't you?' Grabbing her wrist, I fasten the bracelet around her. 'Think of it as a lifeline. As long as you have to return it, you'll keep safe.' I grin with the satisfaction of exerting a strand of control over my gorgeous predator. 'Happy now?'

She covers a burst of laughter. My brow furrows. 'Oh, I'm sorry! You're like a mischievous little girl when you smile like that. You caught me off guard. It's nice, and… a little bit naughty.' She keeps laughing. 'And now you're sulking!' I groan. 'Am I ruining our moment?'

'You wouldn't be Ashe without your sparkle,' and she wouldn't be half the tactician.

'I'm glad we don't always have to be serious.' Rattling the bracelet, she tucks it underneath her armour. 'Too big for me… not sure how to wear this. I wouldn't dream of altering it.'

'You could work on your triceps.'

'Oh, I know your game. You just want me with bigger muscles.' Biting her finger, she pores over my limbs. 'Can't say I blame you.'

'Don't ever change for me. You're perfect as you are.' There's a brief pause while Ashe and I beam stupidly at each other like swooning lovebirds. 'Erm… try putting the bracelet on your leg with a support bandage.'

'Sweet _and_ practical, what have I done to deserve you?' She blows me a kiss. The real thing would keep us here forever. 'Goodbye, honey-bear.'

As I leave, I hope a certain over-protective ursine doesn't hear that. I don't want him thinking he's "papa-bear".

* * *

My journey back home is quick and painless, even dull. I'm already missing Ashe's company.

I feel, every inch, the leader I was before this romantic ordeal. It's ironic, how the solution was to fall even deeper… though, thinking back, I did resolve to march through the darkness to reach the dawn. I'm nearly shadowboxing as I walk. Everything's a bit sluggish and weak from inactivity but a few good meals and a vigorous training schedule will put me right. I'll have the men shaking in their boots. Even if, in private, I become a tender, willing receptacle for Ashe's drive, in battle, I can lead armies, crush bones into chalk and inspire dread.

I am Sejuani, and I am a bridge across worlds. I have lost my soul but embraced my shadow.

Miles pass. Activity swells the horizon. I picture my warriors, peering through the cracks to see me writhe in submission. What came naturally before may be false to knowing eyes. Rolling my neck and shoulders, I prepare myself. No matter how gruelling, I must _earn_ my confidence back.

A lone figure breaks, and I'm elated when I see Bristle. My loyal steed must have sensed my return. Swaying on his back is the only other person who could ride him without ending life as a meal. A hurricane of limbs and hair gambols out of the saddle. The berserk Olaf is the fourth corner of our celebrated front-line, as relentlessly savage as Udyr is tireless and Volibear is persistent. Olaf towers above me, yet his knuckles appear to skim the ground. If he weren't so muscular, he would seem lanky. Perhaps adolescent awkwardness fired his training as it did mine.

Olaf kneels while Bristle jumps after his own tail, showering us with cold snow and hot slobber. Protecting my face, I kick Olaf in greeting. I can't abide his worship. He's too good a warrior to bow and scrape like a serf. There's a regrettable innocence behind his love. He doesn't care for advancement or reciprocation. I'm his ideal, and it's enough to slay my foes and savour my presence.

If Ashe tore down his goddess, he'd have nothing.

Sailing upright, as if my common strength could raise him, Olaf bellows. 'Chieftain! I'm thrilled to have you back.' He stretches out the word "thrilled" in that coarse, melodious accent of his, like he's adding a verse to the warsong of his life. 'Your men squabble like infants without leadership. I can bash their heads together but l'd sooner fight Ashe.'

Without leadership? Ancestors, I've been away too long. 'Where's Volibear?' I ask.

'He went looking for you by himself, the stubborn old fool!' Olaf seems to grow larger whenever he gets angry. There's a trick in his posture that I could... ugh, I've spent so much time analysing and emulating our male fighters. Old habits are like old wounds. 'He kept _me_ from your side while neglecting his role!'

'Do not reproach him. I was on a spiritual quest. Only he could see my trail.' That's not a falsehood, I guess.

Olaf brightens. 'Have you wrestled your purpose from death's clutches?'

'I've reclaimed _something._ The rest may follow... in time.'

'That is great news! My twin axes long for your direction! I will carve your name into a mountain of skulls!'

Bristle thumps the ground with joy as I climb aboard. It feels right, seeing the world from up here, whether due to familiarity or longsightedness. 'When did Volibear leave?'

Olaf counts on his fingers, muttering the names of the people he "disciplined". 'Ergh… four days ago? He'd been growling and pacing from dawn 'til dusk. Rolling thunder woke up the whole tribe when he left.'

I've been walking for just over two days. A frantic Volibear could reach Fjölnir Spire in… maybe half that time, give or take?

Realisation hits like an uppercut. Ashe, you magnificent bastard. 'Olaf?'

'Yes!'

'I want you to gather our forces and pressure the Avarosan. Attack their silos, their watchtowers. Burn down what you can. I want the cowards to know Sejuani is _back_ and will put up a fight with, or without, Volibear's protection. If you come across Udyr, have him run circles behind their lines. We're giving Tryndamere the worst week of his life. The massacre of his tribe will seem like a tavern brawl.'

'He will beg for death. It has forsaken him long enough!'

'I agree but, for now, bloody his nose and singe his beard. We can't risk blunting our claws.'

Olaf grins. 'Understood.' With all that hair surrounding his mouth, he bears an uncanny resemblance to a ginger Willump. I wonder if the berserkers of the Lokfar peninsula have yeti blood. 'If this conflict were too simple, there'd be no glory. Do you know where Volibear's gone? Battle's more fun with him biting people's heads off and hurling victims into my path.'

'No but I have my suspicions. Leave him to me.'

'Certainly. Death to our enemies! Victory to the Winter's Claw! Hail Sejuani, true queen of the Freljord!' He carries on shouting random phrases while he runs off to convey my words. I never wanted to be a "queen" but Olaf isn't one for details. If it sounds good at high volume, that's enough. Bristle gives a loud snort of bemusement.

Olaf doesn't realise but he stands for a lot of people. I judge their thoughts, morale and approval by watching him. If my relationship with Ashe became public, I would smother the dreams of a nation. I could spin justifications out of moonlight, reframe ideals, or kill opposition but real acceptance lies beyond my doing. Ashe would have to prove _herself_.

As I turn Bristle northwards, I worry that she already has.

* * *

Once again, I scale Volibear's holy mountain. I've likely made enemies by forcing entry. Fear of comeback, and faith in divine punishment, opened a way to the summit. I feel my bones ache with the damp. It was notable when I heaved a stronger body up this rocky path. Now the mist is like an ocean. I cough as each breath drenches my lungs. Am I not welcome? By Volibear's tell, the storm favoured me. How fickle are these powers?

A deafening roar and flash of light heralds an aggressive downpour. Shielding my gaze from the sting of rain, I carefully watch my footing as the trail becomes a river. The surge buffets my still-tender ankle. I splay myself across the mountain face, gripping with both hands. Onwards, I climb, step by step, as the wall slowly merges with the path.

I reach a familiar plateau. The crazed web of electricity, miles into the sky, blurs into a pale sun through the waterfall. Questioning my wisdom, I gulp in awe and… salt? How is that possible?

Unless… the storm is _crying_. Oh, Volibear, forgive me!

Yelling with all my strength, I raise my fist. 'I have come to save your chosen! Bestow your vision upon me!' There is no response. 'I have seen through the veil. Strike me as you once did. I am not afraid!'

A bolt smashes into my raised arm like a hammer. All I know is pain, white, ringing pain.

* * *

A new sensation… green… I… I'm here…. the precipice of reality, where Kalista returned life to my soulless form. I… think I'm crossing over.

Am I dead? I feel an anchor… my body, waiting to receive me… or is that a delusion?

I've changed… into…

Where am I?

* * *

Before me is Volibear, lashed with enough wood, rope and iron to build a ship. I know this place well, Ashe's dungeon, where she kissed me, striking a bell that echoes to this day. Without human constraints, I view the cell from every plane at once. I am a fly on the wall, a roach on the floor, dust upon shackles, a giant, holding a cage for inspection. As we learn to combine pictures from two different eyes, I form a composite image of the cell.

Ashe enters with calm assurance, long strides in a short skirt. All her practical armour has been replaced with her provocative battledress. Toying with her magical knife, she closes the door with her back. She's not wearing my bracelet anywhere. For a second, I'm devastated. Thinking logically, she must be hiding it from Volibear. There's no way he'd accept her explanation for its presence.

Her eyelids are drawn with cold focus but I'm fluent in her body's language. There is need, insecurity, apprehension, regret. Her knee, raised in a gesture of nonchalance, hides a nervous twitch, a foot rubbing her calf.

She never stops. Her intelligence and skill must arise from every doubt she casts inward. Once I bore my own weakness and regained a portion of strength, I also realised how Ashe's personal frailties, her paranoia, guilt and self-denial, were the seeds of her power.

She has no faith in others, which convinced her of the fake promise of law and civilisation… but also gave her self-reliance and authority.

She weighs the consequences of her might, which taught her mercy… but also strategy.

She swallows her desire, which drove her to become two women… but also one with her crystalline bow.

When she talks, Volibear can't reply, courtesy of a steel bit on his gums. How curious that oral violation by a piece of metal has gradients of humility. Ninety degrees make all the difference. 'The Frost Queen's Claim…' she indicates her weapon. 'You'd think it was made for me. Sadly, its function is poetic rather than practical.' Ashe twirls the blade, fails to catch it and laughs when it rattles across the floor. 'See? I can't even sharpen arrows.'

That's a lie. She's either boasting of an armoury that serves all her needs or meddlesome Avarosa's boon of enchanted missiles. My great-mother, Serylda, knows better than to slur _my_ competence with aid.

'It has one use though, one little spell that _anyone_ can throw.' Regaining her poise, Ashe flicks her wrist at Volibear. 'Did you know my greatest fear, walking alone through the depths of the Freljord? _You_ , seeking to avenge your precious girl... but you can't kill what you can't catch. All I had to do was slow… you… down. Before leaving, I'd sent a patrol, unaware of my plans, within hawkshot range. They dragged you here while your body was in torpor.'

Volibear's wounds have healed. Only a few glowing puncture marks indicate his brush with death. I wonder if the downpour of rain happens whenever the storm intervenes.

'I'm glad you survived. Your recovery never fails to impress but I had to put more stock in your faith than I'd have liked.' He growls in anger at Ashe's inappropriate worry for a mortal foe. 'Yes, I know. You've got a thousand lectures to give me. You'll get your chance… but right now? You have to _listen_. We both know what happened to Sejuani but I have sources you don't. Anivia says that our greedy Kalista has a material presence, deep within the Shadow Isles.'

Volibear is now hanging on every word.

'I'm going to restore Sejuani… but I'm told you need a "heavy soul" to be safe in Kalista's realm and… I don't have one.' Her disappointment is clear. 'Tryndamere is ideal but, after our last encounter with Lissandra, I'm not risking both our lives on the same journey. _My_ staying is out of the question.' Ashe gives a little smirk, as though stating the obvious. 'Anivia qualifies but the Shadows Isles are one of the few lands where she can truly die. Even _I_ can't ask her to give up millennia. That leaves _you_ …'

She lays a hand on Volibear's heart, using her touch, like always, to foist her will, to seduce or intimidate. I think it would just enrage Volibear.

'Come with me. The two of us can save her. Keep your blessing. Ancestors know I'm undeserving. All I want is to restore the woman I love… no politics… no games…' Ashe tears the bit from Volibear's mouth. Drool spatters across the floor. 'And if I prove otherwise, you can take my life!' He swallows and breathes without impediment. Whether he can speak or not, I can't say. 'That's my proposal. I don't expect your answer now. Tomorrow, you can leave, unharmed… or we can leave, together.'

The door closes behind Ashe. Her footsteps recede. Finally, Volibear speaks. 'I know you're here, Sejuani,' he says. I'm shocked enough that I can't think of a way to communicate. 'You shouldn't have climbed the mountain. I can use the storm as an extension of myself to see farther, which is why we're talking now, but _your_ senses have to leave your body. You're… effectively dead until you go back.'

I try to form an answer but it's unclear. Was I hasty because I felt worried, inquisitive, enraged? Am I simply taking a fair gamble to win priceless intelligence?

Volibear chuckles. 'All of them, probably.'

The words leap forth. 'Talking is that easy?'

'With me, yes. I'd keep a firm grasp on your internal monologue if I were you.'

'That bird's already flown.'

'True.' Volibear sighs. 'I'm glad you're back in one piece but you might have done irreparable damage to our coalition. You _have_ to tell my circle about your projection. If you're a shaman, you have nature's permission to be up there, whether they like it or not.'

'A shaman? What's happening to me?'

'You've somehow… caught spiritual magic from your repeated exposure to the beyond. Once that door's open, your elemental powers may find expression through the same channel. If so, you'll begin to feel magic again, except this time you'll have _both_ schools to control, divine _and_ physical. I don't think there's a precedent for that… Udyr, perhaps, but all his magic is by proxy.'

'Strange… I…' lowering a curtain, I spare the details of my time with Ashe. 'I regained a portion of my strength by facing my… weakness. Have I discovered a pattern… a design for life?'

'Harmony comes from difference, not unison. You've become an expression of that ideal. Even if your superstitious followers balk at serving a magic user, that may be a necessary test of their courage. Those who wish for a "safe", unchanging world can serve Ashe for all I care.'

The irony is delectable. 'Yes, they can serve the most dangerous woman I know.' Volibear falls quiet. I think he's listening out for reasons to punish her. 'You're going, aren't you?'

'Of course, I have to make sure that Ashe doesn't work this to her advantage… and this could be my only chance of getting back your soul. If we lost you for my scruples, I would _never_ forgive myself.'

'You and Ashe are more alike than you suspect.' Volibear flinches at the comparison. ' _Atonement_ is her vice. In her darkest hour, she will scream for death, and she has the means to provoke you. Just remember that I've already condemned her to life.'

'Okay,' says Volibear, 'then I will be a cruel sun, rather than her executioner.'

'Thank you.'

The walls blink out of existence. 'Your tether's weakening.' He screws up his glowing eyes. 'Dear cub, I'll miss you.'

Waves of pure sorrow crash into my perception. Has he given up on returning? I have to make this last. 'Hold on, Volibear, I …'

'No, you'll do yourself irreparable harm if you resist. I… ugh!' Sparks fly as he clamps down with his massive jaws. 'I've got a leash.' Volibear no longer talks. A ghostly resonance takes over. 'Tell me one thing. Do you still love her?'

'More than ever.'

'That is all I have to know.' Volibear doesn't seem happy but… resolved. I hope he's not planning to lay down his life for Ashe. One of us has to put our side first. When I try to object, he feigns a bad signal. 'Do you not find it curious?'

'Wh… What?'

'Ashe begged our co-operation from the start. We may have stumbled into her peaceful endgame. However, the first person to cross over was not you… but me.'

'Volibear, please, I'd rather you abandoned me than took responsibility for a grim future!'

' _You_ are my future.' He looks up, as though searching for my visage within clouds of brick. 'Whatever shape it might take.'

I journey through the skies, across the ground, through limbo, twilight, along one path, another, between. I wake on a high mountain beneath low fog, and wonder how it all came to be… that I warrant such ardour…

That a broken, divided woman shone brighter than a faultless machine of war.


End file.
